


Run, Fat Knight, Run

by SeeThemFlying



Series: The Ice Cream Anthology [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Is this a S8 fix it fic? I'm not sure, Marathon Running, Modern AU, Redemption, Reunion, Training Montages, jealous jaime, more angst than usual, weight loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-09-23 15:22:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 104,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20342332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeThemFlying/pseuds/SeeThemFlying
Summary: Six years after breaking up with her in the snowy carpark of the Winterfell Hotel two days before their wedding, Jaime is somewhat perplexed that Brienne seems no closer to forgiving him. When a new man appears on the scene, Jaime has to work out a way to win her back... and fast.And what better way than running a Marathon?Loosely based on yet another 2007 Simon Pegg film.





	1. Six Years Ago

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so... I took longer than anticipated on the last chapter of "Woman Up" because I had started writing this one. What wonders time off work can do! In both "Big Cop" and "Woman Up" I focussed mainly on Brienne's POV, so I decided to switch it up with this one and hand the mic over to Jaime!
> 
> With thanks to BuckOHare on reddit for casually mentioning this one would be a great one to do!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime makes a decision that changes his life...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Comments and kudos are amazeballs!

Brienne snored like a dying moose; he was sure. This particular moose had just been stabbed with something very sharp, or gored, and was moaning and a-groaning her way to death. It was so ridiculously loud that it could probably compete with a Boeing 747 taking off, but even so, Jaime thought it was the most adorable sound in the world. He could never sleep without it because, on hearing it, he knew Brienne was in his bed, her warmth beside him, her love just inches away.

That night was the same. She was naked in their bed at the Winterfell Hotel, her head rested on his bare chest, her arm slung around his waist. He held her hand in his left, while his stump was laid on her shoulder. Only hours before she had been on top of him, running her hands up and down his chest, as she rode him like a horse, her strong thighs locked around his hips.

“I love you, Jaime,” she had moaned, “I love you so much. I love you endlessly…”

He had sat up so he could pull her close and kiss her and feel her breasts against his chest as she made love to him. “I love you,” he had purred, burying his face in her neck, before planting a line of kisses along her collarbone, along to the scars from the accident he had saved her from. “I am forever yours. I belong to no one else… Brienne, my love.”

When he said her name, she had climaxed suddenly, he dilated pupils making her blue eyes seem black. The feel of her clenching around him pushed Jaime over the edge too, and he laid back as he exploded inside her, thrusting furiously so she could feel how much he wanted her, how much he wanted to claim her as his own. As he came down from the precipice, she put her hands on his cheeks as he gave a few more half-hearted thrusts and whispered her name, “Brienne… my love… Brienne.”

As she joined him in the descent, she laid down on top of him and kissed him. “I love you… I love you… I love you…”

Once their breathing had returned to normal and their heart beats slowed, Jaime had stroked Brienne’s hair, and they began to chat idly about the coming days as he softened inside her.

“Sansa is coming to knock on the door tomorrow morning, and we’ll go to the honeymoon suite. Apparently, she’s got a masseuse and a manicurist, and even a yoga instructor. She thinks I deserve to be thoroughly pampered.”

“You do,” smiled Jaime, kissing the top of her head. “And what better than one of the heirs to the Winterfell Hotel spending all her money to make sure you feel wonderful in time for your wedding day?”

“What are you doing?” she asked. “How does Jaime Lannister prepare to get married?”

He smirked. “Beer. Bronn and Tyrion are taking me for a pub crawl around Edinburgh.”

“Don’t drink too much,” she said, admonishingly. “You’ve only got one night to recover.” She had snuggled closer to him at that. “Just think. In two days’ time, I’ll be your wife.”

“Yes,” he had said gently. “You will.”

When she was awake, Jaime was cocooned in her warmth and her love, feeling totally at peace. However, once she had fallen asleep, the old worries came back. They had first met when he was a conceited hot-shot barrister, always prosecuting fraud cases on behalf of big global conglomerates. It had made him wealthy, but perhaps a little empty. Brienne had been a witness for the good character of Renly Baratheon, her very gay best friend she was obviously extremely in love with, whom Jaime was prosecuting for insider trading.

He had attempted to rip apart her testimony on the stand by accusing her of being obsessed with Renly, but she had met him blow for blow, and Jaime had to secretly admit she was the most formidable opponent he had ever met in the courtroom. Brienne was also perhaps the most obnoxiously ugly woman he had ever seen, but she was so forthright about it that he was immediately intrigued, and then the more she parried his attempts at demolishing her testimony he realised he was attracted. He liked the way she flushed furiously when he accused Renly of something, and the way her sapphire eyes seemed possessed by a fiery rage when he did anything to question her beloved’s honour.

_Well, _he had thought smugly, _he won’t be her beloved for much longer._

When Renly had been found innocent, Jaime had shrugged it off and decided that now they were no longer enemies, he would ask her out. Jaime had found her filling her water bottle up by a drinking fountain and, although he could tell she had sensed his presence, she did not turn around. Eventually, he had to clear his throat to get her attention.

“What do you want?” she had snapped.

He had taken a few steps forward, smugly confident. “To talk to you. It’s allowed isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” she had huffed, crossing her arms across her pitiful little breasts. When they were obscured from his view, it just made Jaime think about them more. “So?” she spat, “are you going to say something?”

Jaime could not help but grin at her, but she did not reflect his expression. “I just wondered if you wanted to come out for a drink with me?”

Brienne’s mouth had dropped open at that. “Pardon?” she had asked incredulously.

The shock on her face had been so delicious he had laughed. “Surprised?” he had smirked. “You look like a gossiping tavern wench with your mouth hanging open like that.”

She had flushed furiously before snapped her mouth shut. “I do not,” she spat.

“You do, wench, but even so I’m still asking you out.”

Her eyes went even wider at that. “Why would I go out with _you_?”

He had drawn close at that, “oh, I don’t know. I’m incredibly handsome, wealthy, attractive and, for your information, I’ve been reliably informed I’m very talented with my tongue.”

Jaime had not known it at the time, but when he had purred that sexually suggestive comment at her, Brienne was a terrified little virgin who had never been kissed. It explained why she recoiled away from if as if he had burned her. “I don’t want to go out with you,” she had hissed furiously, “you’ve just spent the last week trying to prosecute my best friend for a crime he did not commit.”

Jaime had shrugged. “It’s nothing personal.”

“Even so,” she said, “you didn’t have to be so cruel to Renly.”

Jaime tried not to roll his eyes. “I wouldn’t be so worried about Renly if I were you. He’s a big boy, he can look after himself.” Even though he knew it was too much, he hadn’t been able to help himself, so followed that with, “and to be honest, I think he’s into big boys too. I doubt you are enough of a man for him. You are enough of a woman for me though.”

She had gone so brilliantly red at the statement, that Jaime could only laugh. “I… I… I…”

Bored of her stammering, he had asked again. “So, what do you say? Drink?” With his right hand, he had reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face. He thought that a move so gently intimate would endear him to her, but it only made her erupt with rage and smack his hand away.

“How dare you? How _dare _you? You’ve just spent hours painting me as a lovesick idiot and now you ask for a date?”

Jaime smirked. “Well, it is true.”

She had looked set to explode. “I know all about you _Jaime Lannister. _All about the bribery and extortion and the lengths you have gone covering up your family’s dirty little secrets. You’ve never done a good thing in your life and your mere presence on this planet makes it a worse place. Frankly, I would never go on a date with you if you were the last man on Earth, because you disgust me.”

_You disgust me._

That phrase had haunted him for a whole year, had shaken him to his very core, even as he tried to make himself a better man. It _still _haunted him, because even though so much had happened between then and now, in his heart of hearts he knew he was not good enough, would never be good enough, for Brienne. Even if she told him she loved him a thousand times, she could never wipe away the sting of _you disgust me._

Jaime drew away from her, putting a pillow where he had been, so he did not wake her up. Pacing around the room, he tried to get a grip of himself. A few months into being an official couple, Brienne had subtly suggested that maybe he should think about seeing a therapist. “There’s a lot of _stuff _in your past, my love, that it might be helpful to unpack.” It had taken him a few more months to agree to see Doctor Aemon, and then a few more to properly talk to the man.

Even so, Doctor Aemon had given him tips on what to do when overcome by these feelings of blame, self-hatred, and disgust. One was imagining oneself as a child and talking to yourself as if you were that little kid that needed protecting. Jaime had just sat down on the armchair by the window to do the exercise, when his phone buzzed back on the bedside cabinet. Not wanting to wake Brienne, he practically sprinted across the room to get to it, only looking at who was calling him when he was inside the bathroom.

_Cersei._

His twin sister had not spoken to him in two and a half years, not since he had given up making ridiculous amounts of cash through being the UK’s most corrupt barrister in favour of working _pro bono. _She had not even sent him flowers when he lost his hand or congratulated him when he had got engaged to Brienne. Jaime knew why. Once, he and Cersei had been flowers in the attic, their relationship perilously close to something morbid and wrong, incestuous and dark. It had never gone further than a few chaste kisses when they were fourteen, and through his work with Doctor Aemon, Jaime had come to recognise it for what it was. The Lannister siblings had been so trapped in the tyranny of the family dynamic that they had been unable to see the world of other human beings beyond. Even so, there was always a weird tension between them that Jaime had never been able to shake, and Cersei’s assertions that they were not separate people but two halves of a whole.

Why was she calling him now?

By the time he got into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, he had missed her call, but his phone was reliably informing him that she had left a voice mail. Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, he lifted his phone to his ear and listened.

“Jaime…” she breathed. Her voice was panicked, tense. “That Targaryen whore has found everything… the ledgers… the money trail. She’s even got that traitorous bitch Taena to talk. They arrested Uncle Kevan… father’s gone, I don’t know where, but I know they’re coming for me, Jaime. They’re coming.” It sounded like she was on the verge of tears. “You are the only one who can help me. You can get me off any charge they throw at me, I know you can. I’m your twin sister, I’m the other half of you. You can’t let me go down for this, not when it is within your power to save me. Come at once… Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.”

His breath hitched in his throat after she hung up. For years he had helped his father and sister find all the legal loopholes to make sure nobody noticed _Lannister Industries _was the criminal enterprise it truly was. It had been Brienne who had shaken him out of that, made him realise that saving his family was not as important as saving his soul.

And yet, Cersei was his sister…

_You disgust me._

He ran over to his half open suitcase and found some clothes, his wallet, and his keys. While getting dressed, he checked to see if there were trains leaving Edinburgh for London soon.

_Yes, in half an hour. I can be there if I run._

Once he was ready, he looked at Brienne, who was still snoring like a moose. Her blonde hair was splayed out on the pillow, while some of it tickled the nape of her neck. She looked like an angel asleep in their bed. Part of him thought to write a note, but what would it say?

_My sister needs my help, and you made a mistake in asking me to marry you. I break everything I touch._

The last things he did before leaving the room were putting on his prosthetic hand and blowing her a kiss. Then, he shut the door behind him and, moving as quickly as he could, got to the foyer as soon as he could. To his horror, Sansa Stark was there.

“Jaime,” she said, surprised, “what are you doing here?”

“Err… mini bar bill,” he grunted, walking over to the reception. “I want to settle it before tomorrow.”

Sansa looked at him a little confused before shrugging her shoulders. “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning, I suppose, when I come and get Brienne.”

_No you won’t. I’ll be long gone by then._

“Sure,” he said.

“Night.”

“Night.”

After she had waved goodnight, he paid the mini bar bill – two Diet Cokes and an orange juice – and then doubled checked Sansa Stark had disappeared up the stairs. Once he was sure she was gone, he made his way out to the carpark. To his surprise, there was a light smattering of snow. It was the middle of a Scottish March, so of course this was the perfect time for snow. As a few flakes caught in his hair, he got out his phone to check Google Maps for the quickest way to the station. He was so lost in the artificial light of the phone, that he almost missed her step into the snow, illuminated by moonlight.

“Jaime…”

At the sound of his name, he snapped his head up to look at her. They were the only two people in the carpark this time of night. Brienne was wearing nothing but the white robe the Winterfell Hotel provided, embossed with a “W” and the face of a direwolf. He felt himself stirring at the thought of her naked body underneath the flannel, soft and warm. Snowflakes caught in her hair, but they were almost invisible against her white blonde colouring. She was so angelically unashamedly magnificent that he almost felt his resolve weaken.

_You don’t deserve her. She’ll be happier without you. You’ll only ruin things…_

“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice so quiet he could barely hear her.

“Cersei…” he rasped. “_Lannister Industries. _That detective… Inspector Targaryen… she’s found everything. I need to help Cersei hide it all, or she’ll go down along with my father and Uncle Kevan.”

He knew she was aware of what that entailed; blackmail, bribery, being as corrupt and bent as he used to be. As far as she was concerned, he was throwing everything they had built away, everything that he had made himself away, and all for someone as unworthy as Cersei. She stepped forward, her dressing gown blowing in the wind, revealing her legs, but she did not seem to care. Her eyes were only for him as she cupped his face with her hands.

“You’re not like your sister, you’re not. You’re better than she is. You’re a good man and you can’t save her.” Jaime knew that was a lie; he could save her, if only by resorting to measures that Brienne would never countenance. “You don’t need to go down with her. Stay here,” said Brienne, tears in her blue eyes. “Stay with me, please… Stay.”

Even in the dark of the car park, Brienne seemed to glow with light; a light he could never have, a light he was not worthy of and could never touch. He was unworthy of her and her inherent goodness. He was meant for the darkness, and always had been.

“You think I’m a good man?” he asked incredulously. He thought back to all the things he had done to save Cersei, to keep _Lannister Industries _afloat. “I was involved in fixing evidence in Stannis Baratheon’s trial… for Cersei. I blackmailed a judge to keep him from sending her down for embezzlement… for Cersei. I engineered the prosecution of Renly, an innocent man, to divert attention away from Cersei.”

Brienne looked at him with those big blue eyes that seemed to shine with the light of a thousand stars, and it made him realise how mired in darkness he was. Lifting his good hand, he pushed her away. “She’s hateful,” he whispered, “and so am I.”

Without another word he looked away, knowing this was for the best. What had he been thinking? If he truly loved Brienne, he would never let her chain herself to someone as reprehensible as him.

_You disgust me._

It was much better this way; leaving now meant he only ruined her day, not the rest of her life. Even though he could hear her tears consuming her, her sobs shattering the peaceful tranquillity of a snowy night, he turned away and ran…

And ran…

And ran…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, sorry to invoke the ghosts of 8x04, but it was just so perfect I couldn't help myself! There is also a reference to Book!Jaime's letter from Book!Cersei for the eagle eyed.
> 
> As ever comments and kudos make me immensely happy.
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime's life has changed dramatically in six years...


	2. Kingsguard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime's life has changed a lot in six years...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! Welcome back to another chapter! This story has been so fun to write. Please leave comments and kudos to tell me how I'm getting on - I've spent so long in Brienne's head in my other fics, that I want to know how you think I'm doing with Jaime!

_Everywhere was frozen over with snow and it was so dark that Jaime could not even see his own breath. He had been expecting silence, all noise dampened by the icy weather, but in the distance, he could hear his father’s voice, Cersei’s voice, and even Uncle Kevan’s soft laughter._

_“Where are you?” he called out, but they just kept laughing and whispering, always out of reach._

_They fell silent the moment the moon came out. The silver light caressed her perfect, freckled skin as she stared at him with those condemning blue eyes._

_“Stay here. Stay with me, please… Stay.”_

“Jaime!”

_“Stay here. Stay with me, please… Stay.”_

“Jaime!”

It only took one more violent shake of his shoulder to pull him out of his dream and back into the real world. He blinked as he got accustomed to the light, and realised he was staring into the dark brown eyes of Ellaria Sand.

“Ros is here,” she growled.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he grunted. “Not that nympho.”

“Yes _that nympho,_” she huffed. “So I would appreciate it if you got off your lazy arse and stopped sleeping on your shift.” Jaime groaned as he got to his feet, which earned him a sharp look from Ellaria. “I can always get someone else!”

“No,” he said, stretching himself out. If he lost this job, he would have no way of paying back the two months of rent he owed Margaery. “I’m awake. I’m ready.”

“Good,” replied Ellaria, shooting a look over her shoulder at the redhead Ros, who was busy perusing the edible knicker section. “Last time she went for two dildos and a chocolate penis, so please keep your eyes open.”

“Okay,” he said nonchalantly, putting on the bright pink security hat embroidered with the word _Kingsguard. _It immediately made him feel incredibly silly, but he didn’t really have any other options at the moment. After he had been debarred from the legal profession after the Cersei fiasco, _Kings & Queens Sex Shop _had been the only place willing to take him on, and that was only due to the fact that he had helped Ellaria with some tax issue years earlier.

Making sure his heart-patterned tie was neatly done up, Jaime crossed the shop to watch Ros. As ever, her face was plastered in make-up and she was wearing both the most low-cut top and tiny miniskirt. Jaime privately wondered why she didn’t just wear a giant belt and a save herself the bother of putting two items of clothing on.

“Enjoying the view are we, Jaime?” Ros teased as she turned one of the vibrators on to point at him mockingly.

_I must be brilliant at this job, _he thought darkly, _I’m on first name terms with the all local shoplifters._

“No,” he said mildly, pretending to be very interested in the variety of flavoured condoms.

“You sure?” she joked. “Because I hear the moon’s out again.”

_Horseradish, _he thought, purposefully ignoring her attempts to get him to look at her arse. _Who the fuck makes a horseradish flavoured condom?_

He was so busy perusing the variety of flavours on offer that he did not notice Ros had made her move until Ellaria shouted out: “Jaime! She’s got two love eggs and a rabbit vibrator! Go get her!”

By the time he looked up, Ros had slipped out the front door with her swag. “Oh for god’s sake,” he complained.

“Go get her!” repeated Ellaria, her voice raised. “That’s what I employ you to do!”

Being a _Kingsguard _at Ellaria’s shop was basically just a glorified security guard, a job that Jaime was singularly unsuited for. Back in the day, he had kept himself fit and trim, but in the six years since his life had gone to shit, he had developed a love for doughnuts, smoking, and booze that he had not been able to shake. And, unfortunately for him, Ros could run like a gazelle, even in her fucking stilettos. Groaning, he obeyed Ellaria and chased after her.

“Woooo!” Ros cheered as she dashed down the High Street, carrying her ill-gotten gains in each hand.

“Stop!” he half-heartedly shouted as Ros vaulted over an old couple having an ice cream on a bench. Not having half her athletic fitness, Jaime scooted round them, pushing over a mother wheeling her baby in a pram in the process, meaning he lost valuable seconds.

“Come get me, Jaime! I know you want me!” Ros shouted, cackling like an old witch.

_Right, _he thought, _I’m not letting her mock me like that._

Knowing he was rapidly running out of breath; he took a shortcut he knew through a little alleyway to the right. Hoping she would keep running in a straight line, he planned to intercept her before she got to far away. As it turned out, he was in luck. Coming out of the side street, he crashed straight into her, sending her tumbling to the floor.

_Screw you, Ros, _he thought, _I’m a fucking athlete!_

“Ha!” he bellowed when he landed on top of her. “I got you!”

“You can have me whenever you want, Jaime,” she purred, giving him a sultry look.

_I don’t want you. There’s only one woman for me, _he thought, ridiculously.

“I don’t want you,” he spat, vocalising his sentiments. “You just need to give me the damn vibrator so Ellaria will get off my back.”

“Or…” said Ros teasingly, “you could come over to mine and show me how it works.”

“No thank you!” he said, pulling the vibrator out of her hand. “Can you just piss off now. It’s getting very boring having to call the police every week on you.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “You’re the one straddling me, Mr Kingsguard.”

Suddenly noticing that Ros was indeed telling the truth, he got off her and said, “I’m going to have to report this.”

“Go right ahead,” she said smugly, getting to her own feet. “This is all just foreplay.”

Jaime was getting very tired of Ros and her constant attempts to seduce-slash-sexually assault him, but he knew there wasn’t anything he could really do about it, so he just said tiredly, “goodbye Ros. See you next week.” It was inevitable she would be back to her old tricks soon.

“See you lover boy,” she chuckled as he started to walk back down the street armed with the stolen goods. When he arrived back in the shop, he found Ellaria waiting for him at the counter, fixing him with a stern look.

“There you go,” he huffed, putting the vibrator down on the counter, still trying to catch his breath. “I caught her.”

Ellaria raised her eyebrows at him. “Where are the love eggs?”

“What?” he asked confusedly.

Suddenly, he heard a knocking sound. Turning around, he saw Ros was at the shop window with a big grin on her face, holding the love eggs in her hand. “Come get me, Mr Kingsguard!” she laughed. “Run, fat knight, run!”

Ignoring her, Jaime turned to Ellaria, exhausted. “I do not know what to make of this type of flirtation.” Ros had really irritated him today. “She’s makes sexually suggestive comments all the time and then accuses me of being fat, but I’m not fat. I’m just unfit.”

Ellaria shook her head. “Jaime, I honestly do not give a shit about whether you are fat or fit, or whether our most persistent shoplifter wants to shag you. I just care that my shop does not get stolen from, so can you please go get those love eggs off her!”

“What?” puffed Jaime, still out of breath. “Now?”

“Yes, now!”

Ellaria was giving him such a furious look that Jaime did not even bother complaining. Therefore, unfortunately for him, Jaime spent the next half an hour running up and down the High Street trying to catch a nymphomaniac kleptomaniac, who also, quite inexplicably, had the hots for him.

* * *

The drama with Ros meant Jaime was late finishing his shift, so he did not have time to go home before he needed to be at the school. He didn’t even have a car at the moment, so he had to get the bus and to avoid incredulous looks, he stuffed both his _Kingsguard _hat and his heart tie in his bag. Neatening himself up, he ran his hand through his hair and undid the top few buttons on his shirt.

_What did Brienne once say? _he asked himself. _How did I manage to look so effortlessly sexy all the time? She must have been joking._

Jaime didn’t quite realise how late he was until he arrived at the school to find Ms Tarly waiting in the playground, Gal pinned to her side.

“Daddy!” cried Gal the second he saw Jaime. His little boy looked so happy that Jaime could not help but feel some of the tension of the day wash away. Gal made to go tearing across the playground towards him, but Ms Tarly held him back until Jaime reached her.

“Mr Lannister,” said Ms Tarly, her voice pinched. “You do realise that Galladon was meant to be picked up half an hour ago?”

“Yes, I do,” replied Jaime. “It’s just I was detained at work. It won’t happen again.”

“Good, because I was five minutes away from having to call Ms Tarth.”

“Don’t do that,” he begged, trying to give her what he hoped was a persuasive smile. “I promise, this is the absolute last time.”

“Make sure of it,” said Ms Tarly, before turning to Gal. “Goodbye Gal,” she cooed, “I’ll see you tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes Ms Tarly,” beamed Gal. When his teacher turned away, Gal immediately lost interest in his day at school. Like most five year olds, he had the attention span of a gnat. Caught up on new ideas, he turned to Jaime. “Daddy, are we going to the park?”

“If you want,” smiled Jaime, taking his son’s hand and leading him across the playground. “Or we could do something else… bowling, the cinema…”

“No! I want to play Cops and Robbers again.” Gal’s blue eyes were so full of excitement that his eyes seemed to shine. Jaime thought he never looked more like Brienne than in moments like that.

“Don’t you want to play something else?” grinned Jaime, knowing what the answer would be. “There are millions of games in the world.”

“No!” squeaked Gal again. “Cops and Robbers.”

“Do you want to be a policeman when you are older?” Jaime knew his son wanted that more than anything.

Gal rolled his eyes. “Police _officer, _Daddy. That’s official terminology.”

Jaime scoffed. “Where did you learn the word _terminology?_”

“Mummy,” he answered simply. “She said that gender equality means that all police people are police _officers_.”

_Of course, _thought Jaime warmly, _that’s Brienne all over. Teaching her son about gender equality from the age of five._

“And what is gender equality?” asked Jaime gently. Gal immediately blushed; it was clear he didn’t really know and had just been parroting what his mum told him. To save him embarrassment, Jaime said, “it means that boys and girls are treated equally. It’s a good thing.”

Gal nodded sagely and then, bored of his sociology lesson, he said, “can we play Cops and Robbers now?”

Jaime laughed. His son’s enthusiasm was boundless. “When we get to the park.”

Once at the park, Gal declared he wanted to play at being a robber, so Jaime spent forty minutes running around shouting, “this is the police, put your hands up!” in a phoney American accent, and pretending not to be able to find Gal when he hid in really obvious places. It could have been tedious, but Jaime got nothing but joy out of making Gal squeal with laughter. His son had a laugh like a seal being machine gunned – just like Brienne – so for Jaime, there was no greater pleasure in all the world than hearing it.

“Daddy, that’s cheating! You’re taller than me!” giggled Gal as Jaime scooped him up started running around with him, tickling him in the process.

“What are you moaning about?” laughed Jaime. “This is how all good burglars get punished. They get tickled!”

Jaime knew he had promised Brienne he would get Gal back for six, but when it got to quarter to, he decided that it wasn’t his fault that Ros had made him late, and he deserved an extra half an hour with his son. Consequently, Jaime and Gal did not find themselves approaching Brienne’s house until half past.

“Daddy, what are you doing?” asked Gal as he trotted alongside Jaime.

“Just checking my hair,” he replied, looking at himself in his phone’s camera. He needed a shave and a haircut but, all in all, he did not think he looked too bad. Maybe Brienne would think he looked ruggedly handsome; she had called him that once. Putting his phone back in his bag, he got out his pack of _Polos _and crunched one between his teeth. He had left his aftershave at home, so he wanted to do everything in his power not to look like a total slob for Brienne.

_Maybe she’ll remember she loved me once._

“Mint?” asked Jaime, extending the packet to Gal. His son nodded and took one eagerly, crunching on it loudly in a moment.

Once they arrived at 10 Evenfall Lane, Brienne’s house, Jaime felt his nerves rising, so ran a hand comfortingly through Gal’s golden blond hair. “Aren’t you going to knock?” asked Gal confusedly, after they had both stood on the doorstep a little too long.

“Oh yeah, thanks for reminding me,” said Jaime encouragingly. “You are so smart.” Getting himself together, Jaime knocked on the door gently, slightly terrified of the reaction he would find within considering his lateness. After a few seconds, the door opened and Jaime was surprised to find it was Renly, complete with a thunderous look. Luckily, Gal was a cutie and was able to ameliorate the situation in a moment.

“Uncle Renly!” cried Gal, throwing himself into Renly’s arms.

“Hello little buddy,” smiled Renly, hugging him back. “How’s your day been?”

“Amazing!” chirped Gal. “Daddy took me to the park, and we played Cops and Robbers!"

“Were you the cop or the robber?”

Gal grinned mischievously. “The robber of course! Daddy didn’t catch me though.”

“Good for you,” beamed Renly. At that, Gal zipped past Renly and went inside the house, shouting for his Mum. Jaime’s heart started beating a tiny bit quicker at the mention of Brienne. Thinking of her, Jaime made to follow his son, but Renly slapped his arm across the doorframe, barring him entrance. “Although I have no doubt Gal is an excellent runner, I bet his victory was more due to the fact you are so ill-suited to being a good guy. You’d make a terrible policeman.”

“Police _officer,_” snapped Jaime. “I believe that’s now the official terminology. Gender equality and all that.”

Renly snorted. “Whatever. Either way you are still more suited to conning and framing people.”

Jaime could feel himself getting close to punching Renly. He’d had a crap day, and he did not need this bullshit. “Oh my god, it was nine years ago. I thought you would be some way towards forgiving me for that now.”

Renly’s expression darkened. “I was, and then you left my best friend crying in a carpark two days before her wedding. That is unforgiveable.”

_I know, _thought Jaime. _You don’t have to tell me._

To Jaime’s immense relief, at that moment, Brienne made her appearance. As usual, she looked like an Amazonian warrior goddess, even though she was wearing an ugly jumper, holey jeans, and fluffy bunny slippers. For all his posturing, Jaime did not really want to get into a fight with Renly on her drive. He wanted her to smile at him, which would not happen if he broke Renly’s nose. Therefore, he was disappointed when he saw the expression on her face.

“What the hell time do you call this?” she said, her voice ice cold. The look in her eye made him realise he hadn’t really needed to bother with the mints.

Renly scanned both Brienne and Jaime, and then said, “yeah, I’m going to go.”

Her face lightened somewhat. “Thanks Renly, your advice was really helpful.”

“Anytime,” he said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “And remember what I said. It’s always good to try something new. He might like the landing strip.”

Brienne blushed furiously as Renly made his way down the path and onto the street, disappearing. Once he was gone, Jaime couldn’t help but smirk and say, “I’m sorry, have I interrupted an episode of _Queer Eye? _I wasn’t aware that Renly was your pubic topiary advisor.”

“He’s not,” she said angrily, going the most brilliant shade of red. “We were just talking about…_things.”_

“Well if you want my opinion…"

“I don’t want _your _opinion on… that.”

“Fine,” he said lazily. “But just to let you know, I have _so _many opinions on that subject.”

He knew it was totally inappropriate, but there was nothing that made him happier than watching her go that furious red colour she had first exhibited the time she defended Renly on the stand. Jaime liked seeing her blush whether it was caused by anger, or embarrassment, or exhaustion after a workout, or arousal… that last one he liked best of all. In spite of his flirtatious expression, it seemed she was not going to be swayed by this stupid tangent, so she repeated her earlier line of questioning. “What time do you call this? Gal has school tomorrow, and now he’s going to be late for bed because it will take ages to persuade him to get in the bath.”

“I was late from work,” he said, “so I thought I’d have an extra half an hour.”

That infuriated her. “Just because you do overtime, it does not mean that Gal’s schedule has to be disrupted.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” insisted Jaime. “That shoplifter Ros came in and stole…”

Brienne crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. “It never is your fault, is it Jaime?”

She wore the same expression that she had in his dream; condemning, unforgiving. That she was so unrelenting in never seeing his side of the story hardened him somewhat and he heard himself snap, “no, it never is my fault. I am practically perfect in every way, like Mary fucking Poppins.”

Brienne looked like she was going to growl back at him, but then she composed herself and stood up straight. Even though he was a bit pissed off, he could barely hide the effect that her immensely strong body had on him. It reminded him of the day they had gone swimming in the freezing cold sea in Cornwall. She had swum ahead of him, all strong arms and elegant lines, until he had complained of being frozen to the bone and she had wrapped her arms around him and kissed his lips that were slowly turning blue and…

“Well,” she began sarcastically, “if you are such a miracle worker with small children, I expect you to be here _on time _on Friday night with the tickets for the show. It’s his birthday and Gal is so looking forward to it that it will break his little heart if you fuck up _again._”

Jaime resented that accusation. “When did I fuck up before?”

“Oh, I don’t know, when you promised to take him to Disneyland, but you didn’t realise it was in Paris, so you booked a train ticket to Poole instead because they both began with the letter P. Or the time you forgot that Sprite has the same effect on Gal as a hallucinogenic drug and he started to claim he could see dead people. Or the time you told him you could get him to meet David Beckham and you took him to see a lookalike.”

“Oh come on,” moaned Jaime. “That was a bit of a result. For a while I thought I’d have to resort to Bronn in a wig.”

She fixed him with a furious look. “Just make sure you are here, on time, with the tickets.” Brienne’s expression suddenly got even more ferocious. “You _do _have the tickets, don’t you?”

“Of course,” he said flippantly, “Bronn’s getting them for me.”

She looked horrified. “Bronn! I can’t think of a more irresponsible…”

Whatever the end of her sentence was going to be was lost to space and time, as suddenly all her anger washed away, and she was smiling at him in the way she used to do when they were a couple. “Woah, are you alright?” he asked.

“Hey,” she grinned.

“Hey, Jellybean,” came a voice from behind him.

Jaime did not have time to turn around before the man had scooted past him, walked up to Brienne and kissed her firmly on her lips. When they broke apart, Brienne smiled him in the same way she used to smile at Jaime. The sight of them together made Jaime feel as if all his intestines had just fallen out of his body and onto Brienne’s front drive, in a big, bloody pile of mess. When the man turned and smiled at him, Jaime had the mind to pick them up and strangle this dude with them.

“Hello,” said the man carefully. “Have we met before?”

Jaime went to say something, but Brienne went to speak first, her voice stilted. “No, you haven’t. Hyle, this is Jaime, Gal’s dad.”

Hyle’s eyes lit up in understanding as he grasped Jaime’s hand in a firm handshake. There was something competitive about it. “Ah, nice to meet you. It’s always good to put a face to the stories.”

_What stories? _Jaime thought suspiciously.

Certain ones he would be only too happy to share with prospective rivals; like the time he and Brienne had gone on a weekend break to Rome, but instead of seeing the Colosseum or the Trevi Fountain, they had stayed in their hotel room the whole time having sex, or the one where they had filmed themselves going at it, and Jaime had made her come so hard she cried.

_No, he’s probably talking about the one where you left Brienne in the snow two days before your wedding._

“Surely you recognise me from the photos?” said Jaime, firmly. His own flat was plastered with photos of Brienne and Gal, after all.

Hyle looked a little confused, but it was Brienne that interrupted. “What photos?” Her entire expression and posture were so full tension that he could not resist but have a poke.

Trying to cover up his own area of weakness, he decided to tease her. “I don’t know. I’ve got some crackers on my phone from our weekend in Rome.”

At that, she went the colour of a sundried tomato. “You’d better be joking.”

He smirked. “Don’t worry. I am… Or am I?”

“Don’t you dare piss around with me, Jaime,” she hissed.

“Calm down,” he said breezily, laughing to himself. “It’s only a little joke.”

Hyle’s brow furrowed. “Do you want me to ask him to leave, Jellybean?”

At that, Jaime took a proper look at Hyle. He was tall, but not so much as Jaime, and definitely not Brienne, yet there was a coiled strength about him that spoke of years of physical training. His hair was a non-descript brown, his eyes muddy, and his nose had obviously been broken once, and he seemed to be compensating for it all by wearing an obnoxiously flashy suit.

_He’s got nothing on me, _thought Jaime arrogantly. And yet, Hyle was the one with his hand around Brienne’s waist.

“So, _Hyle_. Who are you exactly?” asked Jaime condescendingly, fixing Hyle with a firm look as if he didn’t already know (and dread) the answer.

“He’s…” began Brienne.

“I’m her boyfriend.”

_Oh._

The selfish, terrible part of Jaime’s heart always liked to think of Brienne as some committed nun, living a life of chastity in his absence, or as some demented Miss Haversham staring at the broken clocks waiting for him to come back and claim her.

_In truth, _he thought bitterly. _She just got on with her life._

“Does Gal know?” asked Jaime stiffly. “Because if you are bringing random men in your house, it’s probably not best to introduce them to him.”

“Hyle is not a _random man_,” insisted Brienne. At that, Hyle gave her a little squeeze, and Jaime wanted nothing more than to puke. Filling the silence, she took a deep breath, before composing herself. “Now if you don’t mind, I need to get Gal his dinner before his bath and bed.”

Jaime nodded, looking between Hyle and Brienne. “Alright. I’ll see you on Friday then.” Not able to look at Hyle’s hand on Brienne’s waist a second longer, Jaime turned and began to walk down the path.

“With the tickets… or else,” she said threateningly.

He looked over his shoulder, laughing. “What do you take me for?” Luckily for him, she had the good grace not to answer that. Giving him a nod of farewell, Brienne then turned back towards her house, taking Hyle’s hand and leading him inside. The door closed tight with an extra obnoxious bang, and Jaime wanted nothing more than to go and kick the door down and throw Hyle out. Instead he got his phone out.

_Jaime: _Do you fancy going for a pint, mate? I’ve had a shit day.

_Bronn: _Yeah. Where?

_Jaime: _The Twin Swords?

_Bronn: _Ok. I’ll be there in half an hour.

_Jaime: _See you then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again for reading. Comments and kudos light up my life!
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime and Bronn go for a drink.


	3. Beers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Bronn go out for a beer...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming back for this chapter! Yes, the Jaime in this story is a little less fluffy than the versions in "Big Cop" and "Woman Up", but I'm going to be building him from the ground up, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> As ever, comments and kudos make my heart sing!

_The Twin Swords _was a characterful pub off the Old Kent Road that Jaime would go to when he wanted to avoid people who had been his and Brienne’s mutual friends. They had almost to a man taken Brienne’s side after the wedding drama, and many of them delighted in making a scene. Brienne had even managed to win over Jaime’s own brother, Tyrion, which, Jaime had to admit, still stung a bit. The only friend who had – rather amazingly – managed to get away without picking sides was Bronn, and that was because he was ridiculously frank to both teams that both Jaime and Brienne felt equally insulted. Consequently, Jaime could trust him to tell him the truth, so he was the friend he chose to spend his evening with. When Jaime arrived at the pub, he found Bronn sitting at a table with two massive pints of beer.

“Thanks mate,” said Jaime, leaning across to grab one.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” asked Bronn. “These are mine.”

“Oh,” said Jaime disappointedly, “I’ll go and get myself one then.”

Bronn cracked up instantly. “Your face. Sit down you moron and have a drink. You can get the next round.” Taking one of the pints, Jaime chugged half of it down in the space of twenty seconds. “Woah, you’re keen,” laughed Bronn.

“Shit day,” responded Jaime, shrugging his shoulders.

“What was so shit about it?”

Jaime sighed. “I spent a significant portion of it chasing Ros up and down the High Street.”

“Is she the shoplifter who has the hots for you?” smirked Bronn.

“Yep,” said Jaime, taking another sip.

“I think you should just shag her.”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “That’s your solution to everything.”

Bronn let out a hearty laugh. “No, I’m being serious. How long has it been since you last slept with a girl? And please don’t go all heart-eyed and start with that _none of them have counted since Brienne _bollocks.”

Jaime tried to think, but in truth he did not know. Sex since Brienne disinterested him. He only wanted her, and she didn’t want him back, so he felt he did not really need it. “Dunno,” he said despondently, taking a sip of his beer.

“There you go,” grinned Bronn. “All the reason to shag Ros.”

Jaime went to speak. “But…”

“_She’s not Brienne_,” concluded Bronn in a stupid falsetto, interrupting him while rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You say that every single time I suggest you move on.”

“It’s true! Ros is not Brienne, so I don’t want her.” Jaime went to pick up his glass with his right hand, but forgot he was wearing his prosthetic so just ended up sloshing his drink all over the table. He had never felt so pathetic. “I want Brienne and she’s with someone else.”

Bronn’s eyes went wide in surprise. “Brienne’s got a boyfriend?”

“Why the shock?” said Jaime, suddenly defensive. “If you are trying to suggest she is not kind or wonderful or beautiful…”

Bronn held up his hands in mock surrender. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. It’s just Brienne hasn’t gone public with anyone in six years, not since you were a flaming idiot and left her at the altar.”

“I didn’t leave her at the altar,” snapped Jaime, trying to muffle his actions. “It was two days before the wedding, _actually.”_

“Like that is so much better,” smirked Bronn.

Jaime knew he didn’t really have a leg to stand on with that, so he just took another sip of beer. “I don’t get why she needs a boyfriend. I’m alright without a girlfriend, so why does she even want one?”

Bronn laughed. “You might be happy having a love affair with your left hand, but people have needs Jaime, especially birds like Brienne. Maybe she wants a bit of companionship, a bit of love and trust.”

Jaime was not in the mood to let Bronn justify Brienne’s relationship with Hyle. “Well if she wants that, she can have me.”

Bronn snorted. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” asked Jaime. “We’re perfect for each other.”

Bronn looked at him as if he were a very small child who had just done something incredibly stupid. “You _were _perfect for each other. And then it ended, because _you _left her in the middle of the night two days before your wedding,” said Bronn, sipping his beer. “You’ve been trying to win her back for six years, surely it’s time to give it up now?”

That just annoyed Jaime, because whatever happened, he would never give up on Brienne. “No, it is not. We are meant for each other, I know that, and surely she does too. She felt what I felt when we were together, I know she did. Therefore, I just don’t get why she is still angry with me.”

“Erm…” said Bronn sarcastically, “I may have already mentioned this, but it might have something to do with the fact that _you left her, pregnant, two nights before your wedding_.”

Jaime nearly banged his head on the table, “but that was _ages ago, _and in my defence, I didn’t know she was pregnant.”

Bronn shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Women remember shit like that.”

For a moment, the two men settled into the utter truth of Bronn’s last statement, both sipping their beers as if Bronn had discovered the meaning of life at the bottom of his glass. Eventually, Jaime was not content with letting Bronn have the last word, so tried another tack. “And it’s not as if I didn’t love her. That’s not why I left.”

“Then why did you leave?” There was genuine curiosity mingled with surprise in that question.

_Cersei phoned and I was weak and scared…_

Instead of answering, Jaime downed the rest of his beer and said, “I’m going to get another. Do you want one?”

“If you’re paying.”

When he returned two minutes later with the beer, he dropped Bronn’s off first and then went back, because he could only carry one at a time. Once that was done, he sat back down, and Bronn was immediately on him with questions again. “So, what’s this new boyfriend like?”

Jaime’s mood darkened. “He calls her _jellybean_,” he spat contemptuously. “I’ve never heard a more ridiculous nickname. I mean, what has _jellybean _got to do with anything?”

“Fucking hell, Jaime,” chortled Bronn. “You called her _wench, _which was frankly just rude.”

Jaime crossed his arms. “It wasn’t being rude because she _is _a wench. She was _my _wench. You should have seen her that time when I first asked her out at the water fountain. She looked so outraged – all flushed and wild-eyed – that I had to wind her up more. Thus, _wench _was born.”

“You know wench means prostitute,” said Bronn nonchalantly.

“No it doesn’t!” said Jaime, shocked. “It means a woman who works serving food in a tavern. I made Brienne look it up once when she got all feisty about what it meant. You can Google it if you want.”

Not taking him up on his offer, it was clear Bronn did not care for Jaime’s explanation. “So, this new boyfriend is calling her a sweetie, and you called her a prostitute. No wonder she prefers him.”

Jaime wanted to slam his fist down on the table. “She doesn’t prefer him! I don’t get what there is to prefer about him! So what he has an expensive suit? So damn what? What it so much better about him than me?”

Bronn laughed and said, “I don’t know, but maybe Brienne doesn’t have to deal with the tragic and complicated backstory with him?”

Jaime couldn’t really argue with that, so he took another swig of beer. “I’ve only met him briefly,” he said sullenly, “so I don’t know that much about him. He might have a tragic and complicated backstory for all I know.”

“I doubt it’s got a patch on yours,” replied Bronn. “Yours is the fucking king of tragic backstories.” He paused for a moment before asking, “does he seem like a permanent fixture? How long has it been going on for?”

“I don’t know,” Jaime conceded, “but she’s introduced him to Gal.”

“Well, that’s that then,” said Bronn resolutely.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s moved on. So should you.”

Jaime was getting tremendously bored of going around and around in circles every time he brought up Brienne with Bronn, because it always came to this point, so he tried to change the subject slightly. “Speaking of Brienne, she threatened me with death if I didn’t have the tickets for _The War of the Five Kings: The Musical _for Gal’s birthday on Friday. You do have them, don’t you?”

Bronn looked down at his beer. “Not quite yet. I’m picking them up from Euron tomorrow.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide. “Euron? As in Euron Greyjoy, the leader of the Greyjoy Rough Squad? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Just because one is a gangster, it doesn’t mean one has bad taste in musicals,” said Bronn pretentiously. Indeed, _The War of the Five Kings _was summer’s number one smash hit on the West End, combining rap, tap dancing, and high fantasy to an insane degree. Jaime was just surprised Bronn’s slightly dodgy friends were interested.

“Are you going to the Piano Shop to pick them up?” asked Jaime, suddenly concerned.

“Yeah.”

That was not the answer he wanted to hear. “You are not going to gamble, are you?” When Bronn went a little red, Jaime replied, “Bronn, you know they are fucking criminals and will get you involved in all sorts of dodgy shit if you owe them money?”

“Yeah,” said Bronn defiantly, “but I like playing poker with them. They are cool dudes.”

“It doesn’t matter if they are _cool dudes_!” squawked Jaime. “You are even more shit with money than I am, so they’ll get you in an instant! I’m telling you, as someone who has been involved in all this illegal crap before, it’s not worth your soul.”

Bronn snorted at that. “Alright, Mother Theresa, calm down.” When Jaime fixed him with a furious look, he said, “or should I say, _Mother Brienne_?”

Not wanting to be teased about Brienne anymore, Jaime said, “can you please just make sure you have the tickets?”

“Yeah, yeah, I will do. I’ll be outside the theatre just before the show starts, don’t you worry.”

“Okay,” said Jaime, taking another sip of beer. “As long as you are sure.”

“I am sure… ooooh, Shae the barmaid looks fit this evening.”

And with that, Jaime lost Bronn’s attention for the rest of the night.

* * *

Several hours (and several pints) later, Jaime found himself staggering home from _The Twin Swords _to his grotty little basement flat on Highgarden Road. Being as quiet as possible, he crept up the path only to find that his key wasn’t working. He wiggled it around a few times and tried turning it the other way, before he realised what had happened; Margaery had locked him out again. Looking around on the ground, he located a couple of pebbles and began to try and throw them up at the window of the upstairs flat, where Margaery lived. Unfortunately, due to the fact he had to do it left handed and he was a little bit drunk, he missed entirely and had to resort to shouting.

“Margaery! Margaery! Can you hear me?”

After two minutes of yelling, he was finally in luck as Margaery Tyrell shoved the window of the upstairs flat open, her face furious. “What the fuck do you want, Jaime?”

It was very difficult for him to keep his face straight as he was quite drunk and Margaery was wearing both hair curlers and a green face mask, which made her look like Medusa. “You’ve locked me out,” he said, trying to stifle a giggle.

“Yes, I have, Jaime, well done for noticing,” said Margaery mockingly.

“Why?”

She did not give him a moment of respite before yelling, “BECAUSE YOU OWE ME TWO MONTHS WORTH OF RENT, YOU DIMBO!” It made his ears ring.

_Oh yeah._

Once, the sum that he owed Margaery would have seemed paltry, but after he was caught doing all sorts of dodgy shit trying to get Cersei off the hook, he had only escaped prison through sacrificing his career and agreeing to pay a fine that nearly bankrupted him. Now, all he had to live on was the pittance that Ellaria paid him, which mostly got sucked up in child support.

_Not that I begrudge Gal a penny of it, mind, _he thought.

Jaime grasped his prosthetic with his left hand in a gesture that resembled pleading. “I’ve told you; Ellaria is paying me at the end of the week, and I’ll get some money to you then. Did I also mention to you that last week I slipped on some lube in the shop? You never know, I might be able to get some compensation from that.”

Margaery narrowed her eyes at him. “You are going on about lube and slurring your words. Are you drunk?”

_Oh fuck, and I here I was thinking I was being eloquent._

Torn between telling the truth and lying, he eventually settled on, “nes.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

Knowing that there was no way on earth Margaery was letting him into his flat judging by her expression, Jaime decided to continue being annoying and said, “it was neither. It was a nes.”

With that she groaned at him, rolled her eyes, and slammed the window shut.

“Margaery! Margaery! Come back!”

When she resolutely did not come back, he got out his phone. Tyrion and Tysha lived the other side of the river, and it would take ages to get to, but it was better than any of the alternatives. Bronn had gone home with Shae, so he didn’t want to interrupt their night of passion by asking to kip on her floor, and the thought of rocking up at Brienne’s drunk and disorderly horrified him.

Just as he found Tyrion’s number, however, he heard the door click open. Olenna Tyrell stood in the doorway; she was Margaery’s grandmother, and lived in the ground floor flat. Shaking her head, she said, “has anybody ever told you that you are a fucking idiot?”

Smiling with relief, he shimmied past her into the building and pecked her on the cheek. “All the time. Thank you so much, though.”

“I won’t tell Margaery if you won’t.”

After thanking his octogenarian saviour once more, he went down the stairs into his little flat. He knew he lived in an absolute dump. Apart from his bedroom, which merged with the kitchen, the tiny little bathroom that jutted out beside his bed was the only other room. In the time he had lived here, he had tried to make the place more homely by putting up posters and photos of Brienne and Gal absolutely everywhere, but they did not really hide the damp that pervaded the place. Not caring to eat anything before he went to sleep, Jaime stripped off his clothes and dived into bed totally naked. He had forgotten to top up the electricity meter, so, knowing he only had a few minutes left in the light, he decided to use them wisely.

Rolling over, Jaime looked at the two photos he kept proudly in frames on his bedside cabinet. They were his most prized possessions. The first was of him and Gal, taken in a photobooth in Poole during their ill-fated trip to Disneyland Paris. Despite Brienne’s objections, Gal had loved it, and his bright blue eyes were alight with joy at the magic of the camera in the booth.

The second was older and was taken several years ago at a Halloween party Renly and Loras had held. The theme had been “Famous Couples from History” and everyone had been stretching the limits of this outline; Tyrion and Tysha had come as Quasimodo and Esmeralda, Renly and Loras as Oscar Wilde and Bosie, while Bronn had dressed as Henry VIII and brought six Barbie dolls with him. Jaime and Brienne had played it safe and come as Mark Antony and Cleopatra, mostly because Brienne had told him that seeing him dressed as a Centurion turned her on. That was clearly the case, as in this photo, he was holding her in his arms, his face buried in her neck, and she was gazing into the camera with such happiness that it broke his heart he had not seen her smile like that in six years.

Not wanting to dwell on the past in his drunken state, he kissed the fingers of his left hand and placed them on both photos in turn.

“Goodnight Gal. Goodnight Brienne.”

Then he fell asleep and dreamed of a world where, on a snowy night in Edinburgh, he had taken a different path. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! There will be quite a lot of Bronn in this story, so I had to establish him here. As ever, I luuurrrvvvee comments and kudos.
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime takes Gal to a see "The War of the Five Kings" for his birthday...


	4. The War of the Five Kings: The Musical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime takes Gal out for his birthday...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone for kudos and comments! They make me so happy, because I love to know that people are enjoying my stories!

Jaime chose the only nice outfit he owned to wear for Gal’s birthday; a light blue suit jacket with navy blue jeans, a white shirt, and shiny brown brogues. He spent half an hour making sure his hair looked carelessly tousled and then shaved the lazy beard he had been cultivating the last couple of days, because he knew she preferred him that way. After all, Jaime knew Gal wouldn’t care what he was wearing, but maybe Brienne would. He made sure he left a little early so he would definitely be at Brienne’s to pick Gal up on time; he didn’t want her angry at him for being late like she was the other day. Part of him wanted to look suave and sophisticated, so he thought about getting a black cab, but unfortunately, he could not afford such indulgences now he was no longer a corrupt barrister.

Even so, Jaime found himself on Brienne’s doorstep a full twenty minutes earlier than intended. He went to knock, but then noticed Gal staring at him excitedly through the window. His little boy gave him a big gap-toothed grin and when Jaime waved at him, Gal dashed inside the house. In a moment, Jaime heard the click of the lock and then Gal swung open the door and threw himself into his arms.

“Daddy! You’re here!”

“Hey, Little Man. Happy Birthday!” Jaime said, lifting Gal up, “why are you dressed as a mushroom?”

“I’m not a mushroom,” moaned Gal, as if Jaime were the most stupid man in existence, “I’m one of the Children of the Forest.”

“Well of course you are,” grinned Jaime.

“Are we going to go?” Gal asked, trying to jump up and down with excitement in Jaime’s arms.

“Not quite yet,” said Jaime. “I just need to let you know your Mum I’m here.” With that, Jaime entered Brienne’s house with Gal in his arms. Gal started babbling facts about the Children of the Forest that only an over-enthusiastic six-year-old would know, and Jaime nodded along pretending to know what he was talking about.

“Where’s your Mum?”

“In the kitchen with Hyle.”

_Hyle. _Just the mention of the name got Jaime’s back up instantly. Even though he tried to focus on Gal’s facts about the Children of the Forest – “did you know the giants call them little squirrel people?” – mentally he was bolstering himself for whatever sight awaited him when he pushed open the kitchen door.

Brienne and Hyle were standing over by the oven, his arm slung around her waist, his face buried in her neck. Her eyes were closed, but not in that _I’ve got to close my eyes, or I might just scream _way Jaime used to be able to manage. In fact, he couldn’t help but think Hyle was getting his technique all wrong – Brienne’s ears were amongst the most sensitive parts of her body and he was missing them entirely. She had loved it when Jaime ran his tongue along them, drawn the lobe in between his teeth, sucked them. He had loved it too, because she had made this weird snuffling sound that had hit him straight in the heart. Slightly lost in an erotic daydream about kissing Brienne’s ears, he missed the moment when Brienne shoved Hyle away and straightened herself up.

“Jaime,” she said, red-faced. “You’re here early.”

“Always the tone of surprise, wench.”

She stiffened a bit as Hyle’s brow furrowed. Jaime immediately knew he had misspoke; _wench _was just too familiar and now Hyle was looking at him as if he had just murdered a small child. Even though Jaime wanted to scream, _she’s not your jellybean she’s my wench! _he instead tried to be more tactful and smooth things over by saying, “so, _Brienne, _have you had a good day?”

“Yes,” she replied, stepping away from Hyle. “I had a busy day at the cupcake shop, but Hyle came and rescued me for a quick afternoon snack before we went and picked Gal up from school.”

He turned to look at Hyle who was looking very pleased with himself. “Oh. Do you not work then, Hyle?”

Hyle looked at Brienne then back at Jaime, before giving a little smile. “I’m an entrepreneur, the owner of _Quiet Isle Wellness Retreat _up in Chelsea. As managing director, I can take time off whenever I want.”

_Well, of course, _thought Jaime bitterly. He happened to know from Tyrion that the _Quiet Isle _was the trendiest place for stupid hipsters to go and hang out at the weekend in all of West London. It was all about mental wellbeing, zen, balance, and veganism; all the crap that Jaime thought was stupid and rubbish and silly. It was now even more stupider and rubbish-er and sillier because Jaime knew Hyle ran it.

“Surely you disapprove of Brienne’s cupcake shop then?” said Jaime, as if it was the most obvious conclusion to Hyle’s statement. “You probably think her cupcakes are contributing to the UK’s obesity epidemic.”

Brienne’s face was blank, but Hyle let out an uneasy laugh. “No, I love her cupcakes. She has a real talent. It was where we met, actually. I kept going in every day and ordering her Chocolate Chip Supreme just trying to work up the courage to speak to her.”

At that statement, Hyle had gone an affectionate pink colour, Brienne was an uncomfortable red, while Jaime was sure he had gone a green-eyed monster green. Luckily, he did not have to listen to any more of their meet-cute story as Gal loudly whinged, “can we go now?”

Brienne’s embarrassment broke at that, and she gave their son an affectionate smile. “Are you ready? You make such a convincing member of the Children of the Forest that they might invite you up onto the stage to join them.”

“Will they dad?” asked Gal, turning to him, his blue eyes wide with excitement.

Jaime grinned. “Probably not, Little Man, but I’m sure they’ll love your costume. Did you buy it online?”

“No, Mum made it.”

Jaime turned to look at Brienne. “Well, your Mum is very artistically minded. She was always very talented.” To his surprise, at that comment Brienne’s cheeks went even redder than when Hyle kissed her neck. At the sight of her incredible blush, Jaime felt proud of himself for the first time in six years.

However, the feeling was short lived as Hyle put a protective hand around Brienne’s waist. “She is super talented, aren’t you, jellybean?”

“Yeah,” said Brienne absentmindedly as Hyle pressed a kiss into her cheek. Weirdly, Jaime noticed that in spite of Hyle’s touch, her eyes were still on him. He felt like he was going to drown in the endless blue, especially when the corners of her mouth lifted in the echo of a smile. Her eyes were so exquisite that Jaime found he wanted nothing more than to gaze at her for the rest of eternity, but Gal started squeaking.

“Come on dad, let’s _gooooo_. We’ll be late.”

Even though Jaime had forgotten how time worked while looking at Brienne, he couldn’t help but laugh at Gal’s six-year-old’s understanding of the concepts of late and early. “Okay, okay. We’re actually a bit _early_, but maybe we could go get an ice cream before the show.” Gal gave an enthusiastic little giggle at that and began to drag Jaime out of the kitchen towards the front door. To Jaime’s surprise, Brienne followed them, only speaking once they were outside the house.

“Don’t get him too hyped up on sweets. If you get him an ice-cream beforehand, don’t let him have one at the interval too.” Her expression was firm, but there was something soft there too. Jaime had to use every in bit of his self-control not to reach out and touch her.

“Oh, come on, Brienne, it’s his birthday. An extra tub of _Chunky Monkey _is not going to hurt him.” Jaime smiled at her. “I promise he’ll have a great time, and I’ll look after him.”

Brienne nodded, but dropped her eyes to the floor. “You’ve promised me many things in the past, Jaime.”

If he had thought there had been a spark of warmth between them in the kitchen, now a shadow crossed the moon. He tried to find something to say to that would bring it back, but Gal interrupted. “Come on, dad!”

Jaime looked away from Brienne to smile at his son. “You are right. We need to go get that ice cream.”

“We do!” said Gal excitedly.

“See you both later,” said Brienne, her voice quiet. “If there are any problems, phone me.”

“I will,” said Jaime solemnly. He wanted her to know he kept his promises.

She lifted her eyes back up from the floor and looked at him one more time. “But try not to, okay? Hyle’s taking me out for dinner.”

Even though there was a lump in his throat, Jaime asked, “where?”

“_Hot Pie’s.” _Jaime had taken Brienne there once; the food had been delicious, but they had not stayed for dessert as Jaime had told her there was something he would rather taste at home.

“Oh,” he said. “Well, enjoy yourself.”

She nodded, but he was gratified to find she did not say _I will._

* * *

Even if Jaime intended to keep his promises, it transpired that Bronn Blackwater never fucking did.

_Jaime: _Where are you? The show starts in ten minutes! I NEED THE TICKETS!!!

“Dad?”

“Yes Gal?”

“Are we going in to watch the show?”

The lights of _The War of the Five Kings: The Musical _shone obnoxiously above him, and Gal kept pointing at the pictures of the characters in their fantastic armour and the dragon that really breathed fire (or at least, that was what Gal claimed). When they had first arrived at the theatre, both full of ice cream, Gal had looked so excited, his big blue eyes bright, but the longer they waited the more Gal’s face fell. Five minutes before the show started, Jaime knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Tickets!” shouted Jaime, to the small crowd congregated around the theatre. “Tickets! Does anyone have any tickets for sale? I need two tickets!”

After two minutes of desperately asking people, Jaime was eventually in luck. A middle aged man with a goatee and a slippery smile appeared. “I have two tickets if you want them. I was meant to go watch the show with my daughter, but she is ill, so I’ve decided to sell them.”

“Oh thank god,” breathed Jaime, relieved. “How much?”

The man shrugged. “Whatever you’ve got, you’re doing me a favour.”

Jaime got out his wallet. Inside was a piddling forty pounds. He wouldn’t be able to eat anything other than _Pot Noodle _for the next month, but it was worth it to make Gal happy and to avoid Brienne’s disappointment. “I only have forty quid.”

“That’s fine,” said the man, extending two tickets towards Jaime.

After the exchange happened, Jaime breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much. You are going to make my son so happy.”

The man’s smile vanished in a second. “You want to make your son happy? Don’t break the law.”

Jaime looked confused for a moment until the man withdrew a badge from his pocket, complete with a card that identified him as _Petyr Baelish: Metropolitan Police_.

_Oh fuck, _thought Jaime.

“Dad?” asked Gal, his voice shaking. “What’s happening?”

Jaime didn’t have time answer the question however, as Petyr Baelish was reading him his rights and putting him in handcuffs. “You can’t do this!” said Jaime desperately. “This is entrapment!”

“Take that up with your solicitor,” said Petyr forcefully as he shoved him on the shoulder, pushing him in the direction of the police car. Even as Jaime tried to protest his innocence, the thing that upset him the most was the sight of Gal’s tear-streaked face.

* * *

_Brienne’s having dinner with Hyle, _he thought madly. _She said not to call. That, and I’d rather tilt at the fire-breathing dragon from_ The War of the Five Kings: The Musical_ at this moment than face her._

Detective Baelish had given him his phone call, and so Jaime rang the only person in the whole of London who would not rip him to shreds for his stupid decisions, would not laugh, and perhaps not judge him.

“Hey Tyrion.”

“Hey Jaime, everything okay?”

“Yeah fine,” he lied, even as Petyr Baelish eyed him suspiciously. “I just need your help though.”

“What with?”

“Well, I’m currently at the Police Station on the Strand.”

There was a little sigh before Tyrion said, “why?”

“Because I’ve been given a caution for buying from a ticket tout.”

There was another sigh. “Why in the fuckety-fuck were you doing that? You used to be a barrister, surely you know it’s illegal?”

“I know…”

“And didn’t you stop being involved with all that dodgy shit to prove to Brienne that you were worthy of her love way back when?”

He remembered it clearly. They had been sitting in the cupcake shop and he had leant out to touch her hand. "We can’t do this," she had said. "You set up Renly, you do all sorts of bad things".The look in her eye had shaken him to the core. "Not anymore". She had seemed to shine like some sort of angel when she had asked him why.

_Because of you…_

“I’m not involved in that dodgy shit anymore, Tyrion. I was just desperate.” He spent a few moments outlining the story to his brother and how he was going to _kill Bronn fucking Blackwater _when he next laid his hands on him.

“Is Gal alright?”

“Yes,” said Jaime. In truth, Gal wasn’t great. He had started crying when Jaime was arrested, and was still making worried little sniffles, even as he grabbed onto Jaime’s waist. Trying to comfort him, Jaime wrapped his right arm around him. “You’re alright, aren’t you Gal?” he asked, looking down at his son with an uneasy expression. “Will you tell Uncle Tyrion?”

Gal nodded and Jaime passed the phone to him. Tyrion made comforting sounding noises on the phone, before Gal asked, “is Mummy coming to get us?”

After that, Jaime spent the next minute trying to get the phone off Gal, because he knew that Gal would have his way in five seconds and then Brienne would arrive all righteous fury if he let this carry on. Once he had the phone back, Jaime said to Tyrion, “I’ve phoned you because I need _you_ to come and get us.”

“But I can’t!” squawked Tyrion. “I’m in the office and there is a major deal about to be made. If I leave, I’ll lose my damn job.”

“Well, what about Tysha? Can she come?”

“No, she’s gone for drinks with the girls. She’ll be wasted by now.”

Jaime’s mind whirred, trying to think of a way out of this. He was about to speak, but then Tyrion growled, “I’ll sort it out, okay?”

“Thank you, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Tyrion darkly. “We all know what your promises are worth.”

* * *

Jaime had thought that Bronn Blackwater was at the top of his list of people he needed to kill very slowly, but Tyrion vaulted into first place when Jaime realised that he had called Brienne. She came flying through the doors of the police station looking like a cross between a vengeful harpy and an angry Mama bear, and Jaime wanted nothing more than the ground to swallow him up.

“Mummy!” cried Gal the second he saw her. Brienne ran to him and knelt down, wrapping him firmly in her arms. She kissed him on the head and then pulled back to look into his eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” smiled Gal, the worries of the last few hours washed away. “But Daddy isn’t. He’s been given a caution for a Section 166 offence.” Sometimes, Jaime truly hated that his son had a brain like a sponge, sucking up details that he himself so easily forgot. At Gal’s statement, Brienne stood up to her full six foot three height, marched over to Jaime, and towered over him, glowering. He used to like that immensely when they were in bed together; her standing over him, dominating him, pushing him onto the bed, making him do things to her. There was nothing he had enjoyed more than letting her know how much power she had over him.

Now, he was well aware of her power and was fucking terrified.

“A Section 166 offence?” she asked, looking at him with cold eyes that matched the tone of her voice. “Now what would that be?”

It took all of Jaime’s willpower to keep looking in her eyes as he said. “Buying from a ticket tout,” he said feebly.

“What?” she retorted. “I can’t hear you. You are mumbling.”

Her condescending tone irritated him no end, so he felt himself getting a bit pissy. “Buying from a fucking ticket tout, okay?” he snapped, his voice louder than necessary.

Gal let out a little gasp and Brienne clapped her hands over his ears. “Do not swear in the presence of our son,” she ordered. Jaime thought it was best he did not tell her about the phone conversation that had included "fuckety-fuck" with Tyrion that Gal had overheard.

“What? I’ve had a shit night.”

Gal gasped again as Brienne shook her head furiously. “Come on Gal, we’re going home.”

In a moment, she had spun on her heel and was marching to the door. Jaime thought nothing of following her, trying to make her see that none of this had been his fault. “Brienne! Wait!” he called, trying to keep up with her. Outside, it was raining cats and dogs. Luckily for Brienne and Gal, there was a taxi rank opposite and Hyle was standing there with an umbrella, waiting to shield them from the rain. Jaime had to bury the desire to punch him and steal his umbrella deep inside. He was a responsible adult after all.

“I can’t believe you sometimes,” Brienne hissed, pulling to a stop so she could look at him. “Why couldn’t you just have the tickets prepared like any normal person would?”

He looked into her big blue eyes that he was a hundred percent certain could only belong to a judgemental archangel, and they compelled him to find the words to explain. “Bronn said he would have them and he didn’t show up. It’s not my fault!”

Brienne shook her head and her tone was full of disappointment. “It never is, Jaime. It _never _is.”

“Please, I can explain…”

Her blue eyes were cold, icy. “I don’t want your explanations. I want to go home. Come on Gal.” With that, she grabbed Gal’s hand tighter and walked in the direction of Hyle, who was busy talking to the cabbie who was waiting with the metre on.

Jaime remembered a night not so dissimilar to this one, when it had been raining so heavily that the sound had reverberated against the hospital windows. He had told her to go home, his words catching in his throat as he asked her why she would ever want a boyfriend who had newly lost his hand, who had done so many bad things in the past. When he had told her to leave, she had refused. “I can’t leave, because you told me to go home and I _am _home. Home is wherever you are, Jaime.” She had kissed him until he stopped objecting.

Knowing there was nothing more he could do, Jaime could only watch as Brienne made sure Gal was safely in the cab before turning to Hyle, who she embraced warmly. Some words were exchanged between them before she got in the car, and Hyle leant across to the driver and shoved a couple of twenties into his hands. Jaime tried not to vomit as he watched Hyle blow a couple of kisses at Brienne, who returned them, and then waved goodbye to Gal.

_Mine, _thought Jaime, as if he was a Neanderthal only capable of monosyllables.

It was only as the taxi disappeared down the end of the street that Jaime realised he was standing in the rain and his one good outfit was saturated. Once he had wiped the water off his face, he looked across the street at Hyle, who was giving him a vague smile from under his umbrella.

_Smug git, _thought Jaime.

Even though he felt sick to stomach about what he had to do next, he did it anyway, because he had no self-respect. Crossing the road, he positioned himself next to Hyle, trying to sneak under his umbrella. Noticing what he was doing, Hyle shuffled across so none of the umbrella covered Jaime at all. While Jaime soaked and anticipated the onset of pneumonia, Hyle’s expensive suit remained immaculate.

_Let this be a war betwixt us both, _Jaime growled internally, wanting to give some sort of poetic justification for his instant dislike of Brienne's totally inappropriate boyfriend. 

Watching him suspiciously out of the corner of his eye, Jaime got a pack of cigarettes out. Putting one between his teeth, he pulled his lighter out and clumsily lit it with his left hand. Hyle watched him with those non-descript hazel eyes of his; Jaime saw contempt.

“Do you want one?” said Jaime, extending the box to him, wanting to appear the better man.

Hyle let out a smug little laugh. “No. They just lead to an early grave. Is this your attempt to kill me?”

Jaime put the cigarettes back in his pocket, before taking a drag on the one in his mouth. “No,” he puffed. “If I wanted to kill you, I’d be a lot less subtle than that.”

There was silence for a moment, before Hyle said, “so. You are Gal’s dad.”

“Yep,” said Jaime, puffing up proudly. “He’s a great kid.”

Hyle nodded. “Yes,” he conceded. “I bet you are glad he takes so much after his mother.”

If he had not already got a caution for a Section 166 offence that evening, Jaime would have seriously considered stubbing his cigarette out in Hyle’s eye. “Of course. Brienne is a wonderful woman.” That was a statement Hyle could not argue with.

Even so, Hyle raised an eyebrow. “Who you left at the altar?”

Jaime scowled. “Two days before the wedding, _actually_, if we are getting pernickety about it.”

Hyle scoffed. “Doesn’t make much difference, does it?”

“I don’t know,” replied Jaime, taking another drag of his cigarette. “She’s probably the one to ask what she would have preferred.”

Hyle’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need to ask her. We talk about everything. In fact, she’s told me everything about your relationship quite willingly.”

Jaime highly doubted that. Much of his relationship with Brienne was a Gordian knot of light and dark that tied them together so tightly that Jaime thought neither of them could accurately explain it or break it, even now. However, he did not want Hyle to know that the soft, emotional, exposed flank of his heart was entirely Brienne’s, nor how deep his feelings for her ran. So, instead, he decided to be an utter arsehole.

“What? She told you about all the multiple orgasms, that once I fucked her so hard she cried with happiness, or that time she forgot how to speak English for half an hour because she came so hard?” When Hyle’s eyes went wide with shock, Jaime smirked and said, “no? It’s probably because sex like that is hard to live up to, especially for the rebound.”

He hated that he was being such a dick and spilling all his and Brienne's sexual secrets to Hyle, but it was better than exposing their hearts. As his last statement settled in, Jaime took another drag of his cigarette and tried not to laugh even as water ran down his face. Even though he was poor, had tar-covered lungs, and standing in the rain, at least he wasn’t wearing the doubtful expression that Hyle now was as he replayed all the times he had been with Brienne, wondering whether he had ever truly satisfied her.

It only took a moment for the sharp-suited entrepreneur to snap himself out of it. “Brienne tells me you are a security guard at a sex shop.”

Jaime dropped his cigarette on the floor and stamped on it. “I’m a security advisor at a high class retail outfit, yes. What of it?”

Hyle smirked. “Nothing. Just pointing it out. Bit of a come down from being a barrister, isn’t it? Do you get paid in money or condoms?”

“Money. They couldn't pay me in enough condoms to keep up," he lied. He wanted sex with Brienne, and as she wasn't willing he made do with his hand. "And anyway, being a barrister ruined my life. This job is better for my soul.”

"Yes," said Hyle, his tone dripping with mockery. "I'm sure the Almighty lets many more sex shop security guards into paradise than barristers."

Just at that moment another taxi pulled up for which Jaime was eternally grateful. He did not feel the need to continue this tit-for-tat, or explore the darkness of his past with Hyle. That truth he had only ever told Brienne, after all. 

“Do you want this one?” asked Hyle. “I’d _hate _for you to catch a chill in the rain.”

“No, go ahead,” replied Jaime. “I’ll get the next one.”

Hyle nodded, put down him umbrella, and then went to get into the back of the car. Just before he slammed the door shut, he looked at Jaime with a mocking expression and said, “if you can afford it.”

As Hyle’s cab disappeared up the road, Jaime gave the back of the car the middle finger, the two fingered salute, and the wanker sign in turn, before muttering, “bastard”.

_Of all the men on the planet, _thought Jaime. _Why him?_

Once he was sure Hyle was well and truly gone, Jaime trudged off to find the nearest bus that would take him home. It stung that Hyle was right, but it was true; he couldn’t afford a cab, even if he wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeh, more arsehole Jaime this time, but maybe things will improve!
> 
> Next time... Jaime decides to get to know Hyle a little better...


	5. Male Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime spends some time with Gal and decides to get to know Hyle a little better...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thanks for coming back for this chapter! I hope you are enjoying my story and, if you are, please leave comments and kudos!

Jaime decided to avoid Brienne on Saturday, if only because he feared being scalped if he turned up asking to see Gal so soon after the ticket touting debacle. Instead, he waited for Sunday. It was the day of rest, after all, and maybe Brienne would be marginally more inclined to talk to him after a day of venting her anger to the Bitch Posse, as Jaime liked to refer to them, of Sansa and Renly.

“Jaime,” she pronounced the second she opened the door. She was wearing the type of expression that, in the old days, Jaime had always found was best ameliorated with jokes and make up sex.

“Wench,” he replied with a smile, even as she continued to scowl at him. “Can I see Gal? I would like to apologise.”

“Would you?” she said, surprised. “Well that’s a turn up for the books. When have you ever apologised for anything in your life?”

“There’s always a first time,” he smirked. He thought her mouth quirked in something approaching amusement, so he said gently, “can I see Gal? Please?”

Brienne sighed and said, “fine. I’ve got the accounts for the shop to do, so you can have him for a few hours. Why don’t you take him to the park, he’d like that? Just no blue smarties or Sprite. I can’t deal with any more soliloquys on the meaning of life when he’s high on E numbers.”

Jaime nearly sighed with relief. Her anger had abated much more quickly than he had expected. “Okay,” Jaime agreed. “What time shall I bring him back?”

She looked at her watch. “Three?”

“Sounds perfect,” he said. When she went to turn away, Jaime reached out and grasped her arm. She looked at him, her blue eyes wide. “Thank you,” he said honestly. He knew he had fucked up and wanted to convey that, but it was a little difficult as his skin was on fire where he touched her, and he was sure his expression was more lustful than sincere.

For a moment, he wondered whether she sensed it to, as Brienne swallowed heavily and when she spoke her words were laboured. “You are Gal’s dad. You don’t have to thank me for letting you see your son.”

He nodded solemnly and removed his hand.

* * *

Gal enjoyed playing in the park and Jaime loved spending this type of time with his son. It didn’t require money or fancy gifts or expensive days out, it just needed him and Gal and a few hours. On that day, Jaime taught him how to do keepie-uppies with a football they found in the hedgerows, and after about an hour of trying, Gal had managed ten in a row. It made Jaime laugh that his son had inherited Brienne’s natural awkwardness; it made him even more adorable than he already was. After the keepie-uppies, they played Cops and Robbers, although this time Jaime was the robber. Wanting his son to have fun, he let Gal find him easily in stupid hiding places, and when Gal pretended to shoot him Jaime would make sure he died so dramatically that Gal would be rolling around with laughter. Once Gal was bored of that, Jaime asked him if he knew how to climb trees. When Gal had shaken his head, Jaime had walked him over to the big oak tree that stood at the centre of the park and taught him where best to hold on to and how to move without falling. Eventually, he followed him up there and they sat at the top, together.

“I can see our house,” said Gal excitedly, pointing across the park fence to Brienne’s house. Evenfall Lane sat directly parallel to the park, so they could see it very clearly.

_Our house, _thought Jaime sadly. _Maybe if I had not been such an idiot that night in Edinburgh that would be our house, Gal, and I would live there with you and Brienne and we could be a proper family just like it should be. _

Instead, he could see Hyle’s BMW was parked outside. He tried to ignore the hot, burning feeling in the pit of his stomach as he thought of what Brienne and Hyle could be doing at that very moment in that house; he didn’t want to poison his time with Gal.

“Can we see your house, Daddy?” asked Gal.

Jaime shook his head. “No. I live in a basement flat, so even if you could see the building you wouldn’t see where I live, because I burrow under the ground like a little mole.”

He did a mole impression at that, which was frankly terrible because he had no idea what a mole sounded like, but Gal seemed to enjoy it, so he continued doing it. As Gal giggled and turned his face into the sun, Jaime suddenly noticed a little bruise on his forehead which he hadn’t spotted the other night when he had had his face painted to look like one of the Children of the Forest. “Hey, Gal, where did you get that bruise?”

Gal lifted his hand and pressed his fingers to the bruise. “At school.”

“How?”

“Elmar Frey hit me.”

He could well imagine Brienne’s reaction when she heard the news; she would have mollycoddled Gal, asked him repeatedly if he was alright, threatened to march up the school and then kissed it better. Jaime went for the opposite tack. “I hope you hit him back.”

“Course,” smirked Gal in a way that reminded Jaime very much of himself.

“Good,” said Jaime, patting his son on the shoulder. “Sometimes, you need to give as good as you get.” There was a pause and then Jaime asked, “why did he hit you?”

“We were fighting.”

“What about?”

Gal’s cheeks went a little red with what looked like fury as he said, “he said Bethany Beesbury looked like a tree frog and made everyone laugh at her.”

Jaime smiled. “And that upset you?”

If Gal was blushing to begin with, he was now bright red. It was a trait he had inherited from his mother. He turned to look at Jaime, his big blue eyes wide. “I like tree frogs.”

“Do you?” said Jaime mildly, trying not to smile at Gal’s unintentional adorableness.

Gal nodded, emboldened by his dad’s answer. “Yep. I want her to be my girlfriend.”

“Good for you,” grinned Jaime. Ruffling his son’s hair, he said, “I’m very proud of you.”

Gal looked confused. “What for?”

“Liking and defending unorthodox women. It runs in the family.”

Gal looked a little confused. “What’s an un… un… unorthodox woman?”

If Bronn had asked him that question, Jaime would have answered _the type of woman who has the deepest blue eyes that contain all the stars. The type of woman who has no qualms with climbing on top of me and saying, “you’re my little bitch, aren’t you Jaime?” until she has me screaming my new role in agreement. The type of woman whose thighs I love crushing my head as I eat her out. The type of woman whose hands are strong and gentle at the same time, and whose kisses wipe away all my fears and says she doesn’t care about the past, it’s the future that matters._

As he was talking to Gal, however, he said, “it’s the type of woman who doesn’t fit in a box. Like Bethany Beesbury… or your mother.”

“Why would I want a girl to fit in a box?” asked Gal, confused. “They’re so much more fun to talk to outside.”

Jaime laughed, Gal’s child logic amusing him. “You are so right. They are much more fun to talk to outside.”

They spent twenty more minutes just looking at the view and pointing out familiar buildings before Jaime realised it was quarter to three and he really should be getting Gal back home. He helped him down from the top of the tree and then took his hand as they walked slowly back across the park. Even at this distance, Jaime could still see Hyle’s BMW, and his curiosity got the better of him.

“Gal, does Hyle visit Mummy often?”

Gal shrugged. “Yeah. He comes around most days. He’s always with Mum to pick me up from school and then he comes back when I’m about to go to bed.”

“Oh,” said Jaime uneasily, noticing that Hyle’s timings seemed to suggest he wanted to avoid Gal. “Does he sometimes come for dinner?”

Gal shook his head. “No. After I go to bed, him and Mum go into her room and they jump on the bed. They think I don’t hear but they are quite loud.”

If Jaime had succeeded in suppressing the jealousy while sitting at the top of the tree looking at the house he should be living in, hearing that from Gal just made him want to march right into Brienne’s house, grab Hyle by the collar, and throw him out on his arse.

“He’s coming round earlier next Friday though,” said Gal brightly, “because he’s got me and Mummy and him front row tickets for _The War of the Five Kings.”_

If Jaime didn’t already feel jealous and a little emasculated, that just enraged him. “Has he now?” he said darkly.

“Yep. I’m going to dress as a giant this time.”

Even though he felt a little sick, Jaime tried to find brevity in the situation by saying, “you will make a great tiny giant, Gal.”

“Thanks!” his son chirped, as he went about explaining how he was going to make his costume as fully authentic as possible. Jaime could barely hear him as his heart was beating furiously in his ears.

When they got back to the house bang on time, the situation was not made any better by the fact that Hyle was just exiting the house, and he was kissing Brienne deeply as a parting farewell. As Jaime reached the end of the drive, he gave an overly dramatic cough, which caused Brienne to push Hyle away.

“Oh, Jaime,” she said emotionlessly, “you’re back.”

Trying to swallow the lump that was blooming in his throat, he said, “yes. Bang on three, just like you said.”

“Did you have a good time, Gal?” Brienne asked.

“Yes!” chirped Gal. “Dad taught me how to do keepie-uppies, and then we played Cops and Robbers and then…”

The three adults stood for a minute listening to Gal describing his adventures in the park in excruciating detail before Brienne patted him on the head and said, “why don’t you come inside, tell me all about it, and I’ll get you some orange squash?”

Gal looked genuinely happy about that prospect, so after giving Jaime a goodbye hug, he trotted inside in search of the drink Brienne had promised him. Only having a few moments, she turned back to Hyle and Jaime. “Thanks for keeping him busy for a few hours, Jaime, and Hyle, I’ll see you later this evening, yes?”

“Of course, jellybean,” Hyle smiled, leaning in for another kiss as Jaime tried not to vomit into the rhododendron bush next to him.

“Bye,” said Brienne a final time to both of them before closing the door.

“Bye,” Jaime and Hyle replied at the same time, almost competing as to who could say it louder.

Once Brienne was gone, Hyle gave Jaime a tight smile and began to walk down the driveway. His stomach still roiling with jealousy, Jaime wanted nothing more than to chase after this guy who was now apparently kissing Brienne outside her house and “jumping on the bed” with her in the evening. He needed to understand why Brienne could not see what a pretentious dick he was, so he became determined to find out what made him tick. As Hyle reached the end of the driveway, Jaime spoke.

“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot,” said Jaime resolutely. No matter how crazy jealous he was, it would be no good for Gal seeing his dad and his mum’s new boyfriend arguing all the time. So, trying to push down his feelings, he extended the olive branch. “Why don’t we go and do something to get to know each other? We could go get a pint; _The Twin Swords _is quite nice.”

Hyle looked at him confusedly for a moment before saying, “that would be _nice, _I’m sure, but I’m not drinking right now.”

“Oh,” scoffed Jaime, “does alcohol lead to an early grave like smoking?”

“It’s not that,” replied Hyle. “I like a good drink as much as the next man, it’s just that in two months I’m running a marathon, so am in the midst of training. If I drink, it will derail my whole training programme.”

Jaime furrowed his brow; of course Hyle was running a Marathon, he couldn’t be anymore goddamn perfect. “Is it the London Marathon?” Jaime asked. It was the only one he had ever heard of.

Hyle shook his head. “No, I’ve done that one before, but this time it’s the Riverrun River Run, sponsored by the _Tully Corporation _and the route is set around the Thames. Hoster Tully is a big sponsor of _Quiet Isle, _so I am running for their family charity; it supports blind children in Malawi.”

_Blind children in Malawi, _thought Jaime incredulously. _What does Brienne want from me? Do I have to be the first man on Mars to compete with this guy?_

“Oh, that’s cool,” said Jaime, in the absence of finding anything clever or witty to mention. “Do you want to go and have an orange juice then?”

Hyle let out a hiss of laughter at that before saying, “no, I’m on my way to a spin class I’m afraid. You are welcome to join though; you are dressed for it.”

Jaime looked down at the baggy old tracksuit he was wearing, which had a couple of holes in it. He knew that Hyle was trying to embarrass him, so in return he gave him his most jaunty grin. “Yeah why not? It could be fun. I love exercise; it gives a great dopamine hit.”

* * *

As it turned out, the spin class was anything but fun, and all Jaime’s dopamine hits had gone on holiday.

“NOW WE ARE GOING TO CLIMB THAT MOUNTAIN!” screamed the instructor, a wild-eyed psychopath by the name of Ramsay Bolton. “THERE IS NO PAIN WITHOUT GAIN. FEEL THAT BURN. NUMBER SIX, DON’T SIT DOWN… CLIMB!”

_I’m Number Six, _thought Jaime exhaustedly, even as he slumped against the handlebars of the bicycle.

“Come on Jaime,” chirped Hyle from the bike next to him. “This is only the warm up!”

After an hour of being tortured, Jaime found himself lying on the floor of the men’s changing rooms in a considerable amount of pain, sure that death itself would soon be upon him and he would depart the world without telling Brienne and Gal how much he loved them.

“Are you alright down there?” came Hyle’s voice.

“Yep, absolutely fine,” Jaime groaned, his eyes still closed.

He heard a laugh. “Oh good, because from this angle you look like you are dying.”

Noting the smug tone in Hyle’s voice, Jaime forced himself to sit up and open his eyes. He immediately regretted it, because Hyle had just got out the shower, was butt naked, and was evidently trying to take the concept of willy waving to a whole new level.

“I’m not dying,” insisted Jaime, suddenly finding the light fixtures hugely interesting, “this is a move from Bikram yoga that helps you cool down quicker.” He knew he was talking a lot of bollocks, but anything was better than looking at Hyle’s dick.

“Mmmm,” replied Hyle. “I’m not sure I’ve heard of that one.” Not seeming to care that he was totally naked, Hyle crossed to his locker, opened it and got out a towel and some talcum powder.

“Oh, it’s very well known,” insisted Jaime, hauling himself up to sit on the bench in the middle of the changing room, still desperately trying to look at Hyle but not look at Hyle.

Ignoring Jaime’s tense expression, Hyle crossed to the middle of the room and started drying himself publicly. For a moment, Jaime wondered if they had both suddenly turned into baboons and were now trying to do a dominance dance. It wasn’t very conducive achieving Jaime’s goal in talking to Hyle so, remaining calm, he said, “Gal told me you have some tickets for _The War of the Five Kings _next Friday.”

Hyle gave a little smile, “yeah, one of my friends is an investor in the show and he was able to hook me up. Why?”

_Great, _thought Jaime. _Hyle has friends who are investors in West End shows whereas mine are involved with slightly shady poker rings at piano shops._

Still trying not to join in with Hyle’s gorilla like display, Jaime said, “well… I was kind of thinking, you don’t really want to sit through a whole three hour show with an excitable six-year-old and Brienne, do you?”

Hyle tilted his head. “Mmm… Gal’s really got his little heart set on this, you know? I’d hate to disappoint him.”

Jaime tried to give him an easy smile, even as Hyle started applying talcum powder to his scrotal zone. “Well, you wouldn’t disappoint them because I could take them for you.”

Hyle ignored Jaime for a moment, finishing off with the powder in an effort to demonstrate he had big dick energy. To emphasise the point, he then lifted the bottle of talc towards Jaime and said, “do you want some?”

Jaime tried not to grimace. “Nah, I’m fine.”

“You sure? It’s refreshing?”

“Nah, still totally fine,” replied Jaime, trying to get back on topic. “I know you are a very busy man with _Quiet Isle _and your marathon training and all that, so I just thought that… if you want… I could take Gal and Brienne instead.”

At that, Hyle let out the kind of sigh that a disappointed parent would make to a small child. “Look, I get it, you are angry at yourself for fucking up with the tickets last week, and the charitable side of me would like to help you, I really would but…” Hyle paused and put his foot up on the bench, giving Jaime a full few of his weapon. Jaime knew shit about psychology, but he could tell that was a _get off my land, you bastard _stance if he ever saw one.

“What?”

“_But,_” said Hyle, emphasising the word, “I hope to be more and more a part of Gal’s life and I’m actually looking forward to this show. So is Brienne. It will give the three of us the chance to spend more time together as a family.”

Those words hit Jaime deep. _As a family…_

When Jaime said nothing to his obvious provocation, Hyle continued, “you can see my point? Can’t you?”

Jaime wasn’t entirely sure whether Hyle was talking about the fucking musical, or his statement about Gal and Brienne being his family, or his dick, but even so, Jaime hissed in response, “yes. Yes I can.”

“Good,” beamed Hyle smugly, finally wrapping a towel around his waist. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. I’ll go to the musical with Brienne and Gal, and you can… go for a beer or whatever it is you do. If you want, I can talk to Brienne about letting you see Gal at the weekend. I’m sure she’ll listen to whatever I recommend.”

Jaime wanted to say that Brienne had her own mind and she didn’t need anyone recommending anything to her, but instead he gave Hyle a tight smile and said, “yes. That would be _so kind._”

* * *

It took Jaime extra-long to get back to his flat that evening because of how much his body ached. As he had paid for the spin class, he had no money for the bus or to buy any food, so he went back home in pain with his stomach roaring at him. Wanting nothing more than to just curl up in his bed, he went to unlock the front door of the building, only to find he had been barred once again.

“MARGAERY!” he yelled at the upstairs flat, too tired for pleasantries. “MARGAERY!”

In a moment, the upstairs window was open, and Margaery Tyrell was looking down at him with all the disgust and fury of a judgemental goddess. “What do you want?”

“Can you please just let me in?” he asked, a little pathetically.

She narrowed her eyes. “Where is the last two months’ worth of rent?”

“Ellaria is paying me tomorrow. I’ll get it to you then.” In truth, Ellaria’s money wouldn’t even cover a month, but it was something. “I promise.”

“Your promises are worth shit,” she said, before closing the window and disappearing inside.

“Margaery! Margaery!”

Unfortunately, there was no calling her back, so Jaime just slumped against the wall in exhaustion and hunger, trying to think of a way to break the door down. He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there when he heard the door click open. Looking up, he saw a familiar face.

“Olenna, thank god.”

“Get up off the floor, you ridiculous man,” she ordered, and Jaime complied in a moment.

“Thanks so much,” he whispered, taking his chance and shuffling inside. “Please tell Margaery I will get the money to her as soon as possible…” At that moment, his sentence was interrupted by his stomach roaring in hunger at him. “Sorry,” he said, “I haven’t eaten all day.”

Olenna just nodded and stepped aside so he could get to the stairs leading down to his basement flat. After a couple more mumbled thanks, he took off down the stairs and nearly fell through his front door. Once inside, he really did think what he had told Gal was true; he did live like a mole. Stripping off his clothes and his prosthetic hand, he charged past his bed and went straight into the bathroom for the shower. The rush of water cascading over him was an immense relief, and he took a long time to wash his hair and his body, trying desperately not to think of Hyle taking Gal away and adopting him.

_He’s my son, _thought Jaime madly. _Mine._

Gal looked like him in so many ways, with his golden blond hair and boyish grin. Yet, his most adorable traits had all come from Brienne; his slight awkwardness, his ridiculously cute blush, his freckles, his inquisitive mind, his creative side, his love for songs and stories and medieval knights battling for honour, glory, and duty. And most of all, his big blue eyes.

Brienne’s eyes. Brienne’s blue eyes. Those eyes held the world, that held Jaime so firmly and surely that they haunted him. Jaime could remember their every emotional inflection; anger, pain, happiness, joy, laughter, fear, worry, tension, embarrassment, disgust, ecstasy, arousal. She was so beautiful when aroused. Even now he could see her lying beneath him on their bed, her hair spread out behind her like some sort of aureola. Her expression was passionate and tender as he placed open mouthed kisses along her shoulders and breasts, sucking and nipping to make her moan. When he buried himself inside her to the hilt, she called his name, “Jaime… Jaime… Jaime…”

He responded the only way he could, “Brienne, my love…”

Jaime was only fully aware that his hand was on his cock and he was nearing his climax when he heard the doorbell ring. “I’m in the shower!” he called. He thought he heard a response, but when the voice disappeared, he turned his thoughts back to Brienne and everything he had lost. After he came, Jaime cried. Overcome by a ton of nameless emotions, he propped himself up on the wall letting himself sob. How had it come to this? How had he let himself ruin everything like this? How had he let her go?

He decided to stay in the shower for a while to let the water wash away both his tears and his cum, and he only got out when his skin was wrinkled and the soap had started to dissolve. After drying himself off, he went back out into his bedroom, his eyes still red and sore, and found some old pyjamas, which he slipped on readily. Going to the front door, he thought he would just check if there was any sign of the mysterious visitor. It might have been a parcel delivered to the wrong address.

To his surprise, on the welcome mat he found a plate with a ham sandwich, a packet of salt and vinegar crisps, and a _Penguin _chocolate bar. Picking it up, Jaime looked round in confusion until he saw the note underneath.

_You must eat. Eat and live and take revenge. Olenna._

Feeling incredibly thankful for his slightly unconventional octogenarian neighbour, Jaime took both the plate and the note inside. After demolishing the food, he found a bit of blue-tac and stuck the note to his headboard. It was a motto to live by, after all.

Once his belly was full and he felt marginally better about his day, Jaime finally got into bed and performed his familiar routine. Kissing the photos of Gal and Brienne, he wished them both goodnight before rolling over and going to sleep. That night, he dreamt of 10 Evenfall Lane, but it was his car parked outside, and his advice that Gal listened to, and his bed that Brienne slept in every night.

It was a beautiful dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I luuuurrrvvvee comments and kudos.
> 
> Now, I'm going away for a few days so the next chapter probably won't be with you until Friday at the earliest. I'm going to get a suntan!
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime goes to confront Bronn about why he didn't turn up with the tickets...


	6. The Piano Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime goes to talk to Bronn to ask why he didn't come through with the tickets for the show...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I'm back from my holiday (with a lovely suntan) and here is the new chapter! I hope you enjoy it. As ever, comments and kudos make me happy :)

After collecting his wages from Ellaria at the end of his shift on Monday, Jaime went in search of Bronn. _The Piano Shop _was located on the wrong side of town in an abandoned garage. Jaime had no idea why it was called _The Piano Shop_; it only had one old, disused grand piano inside that Jaime was sure Euron Greyjoy did not use to play _Für Elise, _but to break people’s fingers.

As usual, the Hound was sitting at the front door, his burnt face crinkling when he saw Jaime. “What do you want?”

“I just wondered if Bronn is here. Is he?”

The man nodded. “Yeah. I think he’s currently inside losing all his money to Asha.” Trying not to roll his eyes, Jaime went to move past the Hound, but he stopped him. “Are you going to join the game?”

Jaime snorted. “And gamble with what money, exactly?” The Hound let out a grunt of laughter before waving Jaime through into the building.

As usual, the poker table was full. On one side, Bronn was staring at his cards, sweating profusely, looking from his chips to Asha Greyjoy and back again. Her face, as ever, was expressionless. Euron Greyjoy sat on her right, his arms folded across his chest, a smug smile on his face. The others – Theon Greyjoy, Salladhor Saan, and Daario Naharis – were all whispering to each other, making little bets on who was going to win the game. Asha pushed her considerable pile of chips into the centre of the table. Bronn’s expression flickered.

“Scared, Blackwater?” she taunted. “Why don’t you put in everything you have, you coward?”

“I’m no coward, I’m…” At that moment, Bronn noticed Jaime had walked through the door. “Well look who it is, Jaime fucking Lannister!”

Everyone at the poker table cheered. “Care to join us, Lannister?” asked Salla with a grin.

“No thanks,” replied Jaime. “I’m happy watching.”

“Watching Bronn lose,” snorted Asha.

Not liking Asha’s expression, Bronn shoved all his remaining chips into the centre of the table to join hers. At that, Daario Naharis gave an impressed nod. “I’m no coward,” grinned Bronn, before concluding with, “flush, king high,” and laying his two cards down on the table.

There was a rippling mutter from everyone around the table at that. Even Asha herself gave him a respectful nod. However, then her expression turned on a knife point and she laid her cards down. “Flush, ace high. I win.” It was clear who the favourite was in the room. At Asha’s victory, Euron, Theon, Salla, and Daario all burst into cheers. Jaime looked at them one at a time; gangsters, traitors, and smugglers the lot of them, he thought their joy at Asha’s victory was less to do with their love for her, than their contempt for Bronn.

Bronn’s expression went ashen at the sight of Asha’s triumph, and even more so when she demanded he pay up. He scrambled around in his pockets and found a fistful of notes which he shoved into her outstretched, grasping hands. “Where the hell did you get that kind of cash?” asked Jaime, shocked.

“Doesn’t matter,” grinned Asha. “It’s mine now.”

Not able to take any more of their sniggering, Bronn got to his feet and turned to Jaime. “Shall we go outside? I need a smoke.” Jaime nodded in agreement and led him out of the room even as a new game was set up. Bronn kept looking back over his shoulder, a hunger in his eyes, but Jaime pulled him away until they were standing huddled on _The Piano Shop’s _porch trying to ignore the rain, each puffing on a cigarette. Bronn was shit with money. There was no need for him to lose anymore.

“Where the fuck did you get that money, Bronn?” asked Jaime, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, where did you get that money you lost to Asha? We both know you aren’t rolling in it.”

Bronn’s face was a little red, so he tried to avoid the issue by changing the subject. “Oh, by the way, I’ve got something for you.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out two tickets for _The War of the Five Kings. _

Jaime nearly punched him. “Bronn, I needed these on fucking Friday. Why the fuck have you got them now? You really embarrassed me in front of Brienne, Gal, Hyle, and Tyrion.”

When Jaime did not take the tickets from him, Bronn looked momentarily ashamed before saying, “you can still have them.”

“Why would I want them?”

Bronn shrugged. “Sell them on the internet.”

“Who the fuck is going to buy tickets for an event that happened last week?”

“A time traveller?”

_I wish I was one of those, _thought Jaime ruefully.

“Where the fuck am I going to meet a time traveller?” groused Jaime, taking another drag of his cigarette. “And you still haven’t really provided me with any details. Where the hell were you on Friday?”

Bronn was silent for a moment before throwing his cigarette down on the floor and stubbing it out. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” replied Jaime, suddenly concerned by Bronn’s expression.

“I was sitting at home.”

“What?” Jaime had not been expecting that. He had thought Bronn would have been out trying to charm Shae and had therefore forgotten about his promise or was gambling at _The Piano Shop. _“So you saw all my texts?”

“Yeah,” nodded Bronn, “and I ignored them.”

Jaime couldn’t help but stare at him. “Why?”

Bronn sighed. “I needed money to be in the game today, and that flash bastard offered me a thousand pounds to keep the tickets from you.”

Jaime’s mouth dropped open in shock and in the process his cigarette fell to the floor. “What flash bastard?”

“I don’t know,” said Bronn. “Brown hair. Brown eyes. Tall fellow. He said he could pay me anything I wanted to keep the tickets. I asked him why, but he just said there was no need for you to go to the musical with Gal. You know I owe Euron some serious cash, and I wanted in today, so I just… went for it.”

Jaime _did _know how much Bronn owed Euron and so could understand why he had done it, but even so he was still mad. “Who was this bloke?” Jaime asked, trying to keep his voice level. There was no point getting angry; he would get no information out of Bronn at all.

Bronn shrugged. “I told you I don’t know. He didn’t give his name.”

Jaime’s mind whirred frantically. He had been sure that Bronn had just been his usual unreliable self and forgotten, not that there was some deep dark conspiracy to keep him from taking his own son out for his birthday.

_Who would do that? _he thought, madly. _It’s one thing to hurt me, but Gal?_

Bronn just watched him expressionlessly as Jaime dug around in his pocket for his phone, and then began scrolling through his _Instagram _to find Brienne. With every second that passed, Jaime felt his own stomach sinking.

_It couldn’t be him, _he reassured himself. _No one would bloody sink that low…_

“Is this him?” asked Jaime, lifting his phone up so Bronn could see the one photo of Brienne and Hyle that Brienne had uploaded to her social media. It was recent – she had put it up the day after Jaime met Hyle – and it showed the two of them at a restaurant. Hyle had his arm round Brienne’s shoulder and was smiling. She was smiling too, but Jaime thought it did not touch her eyes; at least, that is what he liked to reassure himself with.

Bronn squinted at the photo for a moment before saying, “yeah. That’s him. Who is he?”

Jaime’s heart hammered furiously in his chest.

_Bastard, _he thought. _This is now war!_

“That’s Hyle, Brienne’s new boyfriend,” he growled, his anger disrupting the usual timbre of his voice. “He’s got front row seats for Gal and Brienne this Friday. I thought he was just trying to be nice, but he set me up! He’s actively trying to sabotage me! Why the fuck would he do that?”

Bronn grinned. “He clearly sees you as a threat, mate, and wants to play daddy and good boyfriend against your terrible ex. Fuck knows why he feels threatened, though. Brienne has thought you are a whiny little girl for years.”

“Shut up,” snarled Jaime. The idea that Hyle felt threatened had given Jaime the first bit of hope he had had in years; he wasn’t going to let Bronn dampen it. “Maybe I am a threat.”

Bronn rolled his eyes. “Oh really? When was the last time she smiled at you? Like, really smiled at you?”

Jaime didn’t need to think hard. It was that night in the Winterfell Hotel, as they laid in bed together and talked about the next few days, right before he got the phone call from Cersei and disappeared into the night. Ever since then, Brienne had only ever looked sad or disappointed.

Even though he could remember well, Jaime lied to Bronn, “she smiles at me all the time.”

Bronn smirked. “Of course she does.”

“Shut up,” said Jaime again, his anger building. “This is all your fault.”

“Is it? It wasn’t me that left her at the altar.”

“Two days _before_,” shouted Jaime, as if that small detail made anything better. “And I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the fact you let Hyle pay you off. If you hadn’t, Brienne might be able to see that I’m trying to be a good dad to Gal… I’m trying my best.”

The evocation of little, innocent Gal softened Bronn somewhat, and he at least had the good grace to look a little downcast. “I’m sorry, mate.”

“You should be,” replied Jaime grumpily.

“Do you want to go get a beer?”

Jaime snorted. Bronn seemed to think that beer solved all problems. “No. That won’t make up for anything.”

Bronn furrowed his brow. “What will?”

Jaime thought about it for a moment before saying, “do you have a spare couple of hundred quid? I owe Margaery rent money, and all will be well between us if you lend me some.”

That statement only earned laughter. “Come on Jaime, I just lost it all on the poker table. If you want to make up, at least offer me some penance that I might actually be able to fulfil.”

In spite of himself, Jaime felt the corner of his mouth turn up in an amused smile. “Well, if you don’t have any money you will just have to put up with my sulking for the next couple of days. Maybe I’ll see you later in the week, you treacherous bastard.”

Bronn nodded his head contritely. “Sounds good. I’ll see you around.”

And with that, Jaime walked off into the worsening rain.

* * *

Jaime’s meeting with Bronn meant that he was late for the other visit he had scheduled in the diary that evening; dinner with Tyrion and Tysha. It had become a weird monthly tradition since Christmas, when Tysha had told Jaime he needed to live on more than booze and cigarettes, and insisted she let her feed him up. Tysha was such a good cook that Jaime didn’t complain. The only downside was that he sometimes had to deal with Tyrion’s disappointment. By the time Jaime arrived at their house, he was a soaking wet mess and Tyrion just shook his head and let him in, not bothering to ask where he had been.

“Hello Jaime,” beamed Tysha as she began to serve up. “We’ve got cheesy Pasta Bake with chicken and bacon. Does that sound alright?”

“Perfect,” he replied, shucking off his coat and sitting down at the table. Once again, he hadn’t eaten all day, but he did not feel like telling Tyrion and Tysha that.

When the table was laid and the three of them were sat down at the table, and Tyrion began his own personal version of the Spanish Inquisition as he tried to confirm in what new way Jaime’s life was going to shit this month. “How’s it all going at yours?” asked Tyrion seriously, taking Jaime’s plate and loading it up with pasta bake. “Everything neat and tidy? Are you on top of the rent?”

Jaime had thought about asking to borrow money from Tyrion, but it was one thing to ask someone like Bronn – a sad sack like himself – another thing entirely to beg his brother, who was successful and getting on with his life. No, he would find Margaery her money from somewhere else.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” he smiled. “I’m thinking of extending my contract.”

“That’s good,” said Tyrion, passing him the plate of pasta. Jaime tried not to look like a hungry pig as he wolfed it down; his stomach was growling at him ravenously.

“Mmmmm,” said Jaime through a big mouthful. “This is so good.”

“Thank you,” smiled Tysha as she began tucking into her own food.

Jaime went to ask her about the recipe, but Tyrion cut him off, wanting to continue his interrogation. “How’s the job at Ellaria’s going?”

“Fine,” replied Jaime, taking another mouthful.

Tyrion looked at him quizzically. “Are you sure? Because we both know it is beneath your talents.”

Jaime shrugged, trying to brush him off. “I’ve been debarred. I can’t go back to practicing the law.”

“No,” said Tyrion, acknowledging that as the truth, “you are quite right, you can’t. But a friend of mine Davos Seaworth works at the Citizens Advice Bureau, and they are in need of people with knowledge of the law to work as advisors. Davos told me there was a job going, and I put you forward. You just need to send him your CV.”

An unusual stillness suddenly settled over the conversation. Jaime was aware that Tyrion was only trying to be helpful, but his brother always thought he knew how other people’s lives should be run and tried to do it himself. “I don’t want a new job.”

“Why?” asked Tyrion. “That one at Ellaria’s does you no good and this one…”

“Would bring me back to working with the law. When I was a barrister, I was nothing but a nasty, scheming, evil bastard. I don’t want to be that man again. I promised Brienne I wouldn’t go back to that. She showed me how not to be that. I don’t want to disappoint her. I don’t want…”

“Okay, okay,” said Tyrion soothingly, patting him on the shoulder. Jaime only realised he had been getting a little upset when his vision became blurred and he had to blink to dislodge a few embarrassing tears from his eyes. He thought Tyrion hadn’t noticed, but Tysha was looking at him understandingly with those big dark eyes of hers.

_I don’t want your pity, Tysha, _he thought. _I don’t deserve pity._

“Okay. No new job at the moment,” continued Tyrion. “Think about it though, mmm? Davos is a good man, and the role would allow you to help people who are in real trouble. It could be good for you. It’s more money at the very least.”

Jaime nodded and promised, “I will”, knowing he would do no such thing. Thinking that Tyrion’s retreat meant the inquisition was over, Jaime went back to his dinner, but found that Tyrion was still intent on asking him questions.

“Are there any women on the horizon?”

Jaime shook his head. “No. You know this. There’s only one woman for me, and she’s taken.”

Tyrion looked at him quizzically. “Taken? Brienne’s got a boyfriend?

“Yeah,” he replied despondently. “His name is Hyle and he runs the _Quiet Isle Wellness Retreat. _His rich as Croesus, has a BMW, is best friends with investors in West End musicals, and runs marathons on behalf of blind children in Malawi.”

Tyrion let out a whistle through his teeth. “Well… no offence, but I don’t think even super rich, arrogant, corrupt barrister Jaime could beat that.”

“He is not all that,” spat Jaime. “He’s also a manipulative bastard.”

“Why?” asked Tysha. “Just because he’s rich?”

“No,” snapped Jaime, “not just because he’s rich.” The thought of Hyle made Jaime bubble with anger once more, and he put his fork down to complain. “You know when I phoned you from the police station last week after being caught buying from a ticket tout?”

“Yeah?” replied Tyrion and Tysha at the same time. It unnerved him slightly that Tyrion had clearly told Tysha the whole story, but he ploughed on regardless.

“Well it turns out that Hyle paid Bronn not to show up with the tickets, and now he’s got new tickets for himself, Brienne, and Gal this week. He’s trying to make me look bad so he can push me out and get himself in. Apparently, he wants to spend more time with them as his family, but they’re not _his _family. They’re mine.”

Tyrion gave Tysha a little look before he turned to his brother and said, “Gal is your family. He’s your son. Brienne is just your ex-fiancée. If you did not have Gal, you wouldn’t speak two words to each other.”

Jaime stared at Tyrion, suddenly furious. “She _is _my family. She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved, will be the only woman I’ve ever loved. She’s the mother of my son, and I know she felt what I felt when we were together. She’s going to forgive me one day, I know it…”

Tyrion raised his eyebrows at him. “It’s been six years. If you haven’t earned her forgiveness by now, I don’t think you ever will.”

_No, _thought Jaime desperately. _She must forgive me. She can’t leave me out in the cold like this forever. She can’t. She said she’d always love me, she said…_

“If I can’t have her, why should he?” spat Jaime. It was a wholly petty thing to say, but Jaime was fed up of living in this prison of anger, jealousy, and confusion that he had been in for six years. Even so, he could feel himself reddening at his statement; he hated baring his heart like this, especially to Tyrion and Tysha.

To his surprise, it was not Tyrion that spoke next but Tysha. “Because you want her to be happy? If you love her, surely you think she deserves that chance?”

At Tysha’s words, Jaime felt like the jealous, pathetic little man he knew he was, but even so he tried to fight Tysha’s line of argument. “Of course I want Brienne to be happy,” he insisted, when deep down he knew he only wanted her to be happy with him, “but Hyle is wrong for her. He’s not what he seems, I know he’s not…”

“Jaime…” said Tyrion, trying to interrupt.

“Hyle is not right for her,” maintained Jaime, his voice growing louder with every word. “He might wear a nice suit and be the manager of a swanky wellness retreat, but he is not good enough for her. Hyle is not what Brienne thinks he is and I’m going to prove it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming back for this chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. Jaime vs Hyle is now well and truly underway!
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime goes to see Brienne to ask her what she sees in Hyle...


	7. Cupcakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime goes to talk to Brienne about Hyle...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here is the next chapter - it was originally joined to the previous chapter, hence why it is so quick. I hope you enjoy! As ever, comments and kudos make me sing!

_Sweet Tooth _had one of the most prominent positions along the High Street with lots of outdoor seating and room inside, yet even so there was a massive queue pouring out of the front door. In the old days, Jaime would have been able to sneak round the back to go in through the staff entrance, but, given the state of his relationship with Brienne, he took his position at the back of the queue and waited along with everyone else. Brienne’s shop was one of the best artisan bakeries in all of South London, and its popularity was demonstrated by the fact you could not just turn up to _Sweet Tooth, _you had to get in line, take a numbered ticket, and wait to be called. Jaime suppressed a snigger as he noticed his number was 69.

_How apt, _he thought.

When his number was called, he was confronted by the picture of Brienne standing in a blue summer dress, which made her eyes shine even more than they usually did. Jaime was drawn to her so forcefully that he only stopped walking towards her when he crashed into the counter. At the sound she looked up, and he noticed there was a dash of flour on her cheek.

“Jaime,” she said, her tone surprised. “What are you doing here?”

If the Ancient Greeks had ever worshipped a goddess of baking, Jaime was sure she would have looked exactly like Brienne. That or she actually was Aphrodite Incarnate. Instead of lavishing her with such ridiculous – but true – comments, however, he said, “you’ve got flour on your face.”

She tutted in frustration before brushing at herself. “Is it gone?”

“No,” he said gently, before reaching across the counter to wipe it from her cheek. “It’s just… there…” Jaime only realised what he was doing when Brienne went the most brilliant shade of red as he brushed the trace of flour from her cheekbone with his thumb. Unable to resist, he kept his hand in place a moment longer than intended, loving the feeling of her warm skin against his fingers. Knowing he was trying his luck, he did not complain when she batted his hand away, her expression stony.

“What do you want?” she asked again, still as red as a sundried tomato.

He thought about the best way to phrase it before saying, “can we talk?”

She sighed, “Jaime, I’m really busy.”

“I know,” he replied, ignoring the big queue of customers, “but I really would like to.”

Despite trying his most endearing smile on her, Brienne clearly was not in the mood for it today. “No. Just buy something or go.”

Knowing his only course of action was to pretend to want to buy something, he vaguely pointed at a cupcake in front of him. “Mmmm. What flavour is that one?”

“Chocolate Orange,” said Brienne tersely, “you taste tested it, remember?”

He did remember. She had spent a whole day trying out new recipes for cakes and had worked herself to the bone in getting everything just right. After she burnt one batch, however, she had had a mini-breakdown in their kitchen, so Jaime had persuaded her to come into the bedroom with him with the non-burnt batch of Chocolate Orange cupcakes. It had turned into one of their sex with food sessions.

“Oh yes,” smiled Jaime wickedly. “I remember it well. I would like one of those please… although, I do seem to recall that when I taste tested it this was only the first course.” Brienne went almost maroon at that statement and tried to hide it by getting the tongs and reaching for one of the big Chocolate Orange cupcakes at the back. “No, not that one,” Jaime interrupted. “It’s too big. I want that one next to it; as you know, I’ve always preferred perky over plump.”

It pleased him immensely to see Brienne blush so furiously at his slightly dirty interjection and he couldn’t help but laugh as she almost ripped the paper bag trying to stuff his cupcake in. “Anything else?” she snapped when he continued to smirk at her.

Jaime leant forward and positioned himself on the counter. “Yes. What on earth do you see in Hyle?”

At that attempt at digging away at her personal life, Brienne continued blushing and turned away to the ticket counter, pulling out the next number. “Seventy,” she called.

“I’m seventy,” came a deadpan voice. Jaime turned to see a guy dressed in all black with a small beard move forward.

Brienne smiled at him, “hello Edd.” His presence clearly enabled her shield herself from her ex-fiancé who was still valiantly endeavouring to get her attention.

“I haven’t finished yet,” insisted Jaime, scooting along so he was in front of her, pushing Edd out of the way.

Brienne let out an irritated little sigh. “Goodbye, Jaime.”

“Yes,” agreed Edd, giving Jaime a morose expression. “I think you have used up your allotted time.”

Jaime rolled his eyes at him. “You don’t have allotted time.”

“Now you are using up _my _allotted time.”

Jaime gave Edd a ferocious look. “You don’t get allotted time! I just need to talk to Brienne!”

She was still not looking at him. Instead, she gave Edd what she intended to be a breezy smile, but Jaime could still see the tension underneath. “What can I get you, Edd?”

Edd looked at the treats displayed on the counter. “Do you have any of those gingerbread shaped direwolves?”

Brienne shook her head. “Sorry, no. We only do them at Halloween.”

“Oh,” said Edd, looking a little downcast. He stared at the cakes and thought for a while before saying, “do you have anything else shaped like an animal?”

It was now Brienne’s turn to look around the counter for something that might fit the bill. “Well… umm…”

Jaime had had enough. “Excuse me, Brienne.”

“What?” she asked exasperatedly, “can’t you see I’m with a customer?”

“But I haven’t paid for my cupcake,” he said, holding up the paper bag and pouting. When she gave him an expression that made him think she wanted to hit him very hard, he smiled at her jauntily in response. Strangely, it inspired the corners of her mouth to turn up in a sort of smile.

Turning to Edd she said, “I’m sorry. Can you just give me a moment?” She then shuffled back towards the till and Jaime followed her.

“While you are doing that,” he said, “you can answer my question.”

“What question?”

“What do you see in Hyle?”

To his surprise, that elicited a harsh bark of laughter. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No,” said Jaime honestly. “Tell me.”

“Well,” replied Brienne, thinking about it for the first time. “For one he’s very good looking…”

Now it was Jaime’s turn to snort. “I didn’t think you were that shallow, wench.”

“I’m not shallow,” she responded furiously, her blush rising once more.

“No?” he questioned, enjoying her predicament. “Because the first reason you are giving me for going out with Hyle is that he is good looking – not that I see it, mind – and we both know that he has nothing on me. So it seems both your major relationships were motivated by nothing but your own shallowness.”

Her teeth were clenched together as she hissed, “you are so arrogant.”

“You are not denying it though, are you?” he smirked. “I really am quite handsome.”

Trying to avoid his accusation, she said, “just because you have the emotional depth of a teaspoon, doesn’t mean that everyone else is the same. I like Hyle for many reasons other than his looks.”

_Like, _thought Jaime, _not love. She only likes him…_

“Give me one.”

“One?” laughed Brienne haughtily, “I could give you _seventy_-one.”

“I’m seventy one!” came another voice. This time it was a girl with violently red hair and a big long list of cupcakes she wanted grasped in her hand.

“Ygritte,” said Brienne, her smile tense. “Can you give me a moment?”

Jaime’s approach was much less polite than Brienne’s, so he stuck a hand in Ygritte’s face and pushed her away. “So far, you’ve only given me one reason. And to be honest, wench, him being good looking is no solid foundation for a relationship.”

That really pushed Brienne over the edge. “There are _lots _of reasons, Jaime. He’s mature, responsible, honest, and he’s great with Gal.”

Jaime thought to question her assertion that Hyle was honest, given the whole debacle with Bronn and the tickets, but he knew she would only think him incredibly petty if he tried to undermine Hyle that way, so he knew he had to be more subtle. “That’s only four reasons, not seventy-one,” he said stubbornly, hankering after this point.

“I have loads of reasons,” she barked, her temper rising, “loads, and loads, and _loads_.”

“And yet you are still sixty-six off your intended target!” laughed Jaime, trying to rile her.

She was now well and truly cross, so slammed her hand down on the counter. “He runs marathons for blind children in Malawi, Jaime. He’s a _good man._”

Jaime spluttered, “oh big _deal._” He knew he was sounding a bit jealous but didn’t care.

“I’ve decided what I want,” stated Edd, “do you have any of those little sugar rabbits?”

“One moment,” said Brienne tersely, not able to put on her customer voice anymore as her beautiful blue eyes were still burning into Jaime’s skin. “So, you could run a marathon could you, Jaime?”

He shrugged, “maybe I could and maybe I couldn’t, but it still doesn’t change the fact that Hyle is wrong for you!”

Clocking Jaime’s impassioned expression, she looked him deeply in the eyes. “You sound quite jealous.”

Overcome by how beautiful she looked when she was angry, Jaime could only try and regain control of the situation by slamming his fist down on the counter, “I do, don’t I? But that’s only because I’ve changed, and you are too dense to see that it’s been six years and maybe it’s about time you forgave me.”

Brienne was no longer even bothering to keep up the pretence that this was a polite chat with a customer. He had raked up their history and their feelings, so she suddenly let rip. “Oh, six years and you’ve changed. Well, that’s great. Let’s just pretend that nothing has happened and get married, shall we?”

Jaime’s heart leapt hopefully. “Really?”

“No!” she almost shouted. “In case you forgot, you left me at the altar, _pregnant._”

There was a rumble of shocked gasps from the customers around Jaime as Ygritte hollered at him, “you utter cock”. It seemed to carry across the entirety of _Sweet Tooth, _and now everyone and their mum was looking at the drama unfolding next to the counter.

“Firstly,” said Jaime, not just talking to Brienne anymore but the assembled audience in the cupcake shop, “I did not know she was pregnant and secondly, it was two days before the wedding, not in the church in front of the fucking vicar.”

“That doesn’t make it any better,” said Edd dourly.

“Yes,” agreed Brienne. “You are quite right, Edd. It doesn’t make it any better.”

Unperturbed, Jaime declared, “I’ve changed, I can change, I’m better for you than Hyle ever will be, and I’ll prove it.”

To his surprise, Brienne’s expression softened slightly at that statement, and when she next spoke her voice was almost tender. “How?”

“I’ll run the marathon,” he said, as if it was the obvious answer to everything.

Brienne blinked at him. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, slightly louder, “I promise you I’ll run that marathon that Hyle is doing.”

Brienne clearly did not know what to say for a moment, but then she came up with, “when have you ever kept a promise in your entire life?”

“Now!” he insisted. “I will finish that damn marathon if it’s the last thing I do. Then I’ll beat that son of a bitch hands down, because not only will I be his equal in sporting terms, but I’ll thrash him in the other category that matters because, apparently, you are super shallow. And we both know that you’ve always found me fucking sexy.”

The violent blush that stained her cheeks told him he was right, even as the customers watching the show started muttering darkly at this turn of events. Eventually, Brienne managed to splutter, “you are _despicable_.”

“I take that as a compliment,” he grinned. When she only continued to stare at him, her mouth open in shock at how brazen he was being, he said, “you look like a gossiping tavern wench with your mouth hanging open like that.”

In one quick movement she snapped it shut, clearly not knowing how to react to him summoning the ghost of the time he had first asked her out by the water fountain. When she had once more regained her composure, she ordered, ”get out. I’ve had enough of you, and I have to find these sugar rabbits.”

“Finally,” muttered Edd, clearly unimpressed that he had to watch this soap opera as he was trying to buy an animal-shaped sugary snack.

Jaime nodded; he knew he had made his point and now was the time to withdraw. “Fine, I’ll go,” he conceded, “but I’m going to prove to you I’ve changed, wench, if it’s the last thing I do. I keep my promises, so I am going to run that damn marathon. I'll be up at six tomorrow morning for my first practice run.”

He had pushed his way through the crowd and was halfway across the shop when she called his name. Immediately his heart lifted; maybe she was calling him back to tell him that she had always loved him, and he did not need to prove it to her. However, when he turned around, she found she was wearing a neutral expression.

“You haven’t paid for your cupcake,” she said simply. “That will be £3.50.”

“Oh,” he replied, somewhat disappointed.

* * *

When Jaime woke up the next morning, he rolled over and looked at the time.

It was twenty five to nine, making him late for work, let alone doing an early run.

_Oh fuck, _he thought. ___This is going to be harder than I expected._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I took a fair amount of dialogue from the film for this one, but the scene was just so perfect I couldn't resist. Please leave a lovely comment or review - do you think Jaime will have any luck in winning Brienne back? And does she really have any interest in him?
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime begins to train for the marathon, but it doesn't go *entirely* to plan...


	8. Chafing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime begins his second day of training...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks to everyone for coming back for the next chapter! I love to know how I'm doing, so if you are enjoying this (or if you are not), please let me know, because it makes me a better writer.

Day Two of Jaime’s training was better than his first. He managed to wake up at six thirty and be outside at seven. To his surprise, he did not own any running shorts at all, so had decided to make do with an old pair of swimming trunks. That had only resulted in a nasty epidemic of chafing that he was still trying to deal with when he turned up at work at nine.

“Jaime,” snapped Ellaria, “would you mind not scratching yourself so publicly in front of the customers. I know this is a sex shop, but that just looks downright indecent.”

Jaime removed his hand before saying, “uh, sorry. I went out for a run this morning in my swimming trunks and err… I got a bit of a rash.”

Ellaria rolled her eyes. “Well of course you did… hang on. Why are you even going running? You’ve previously claimed it was something only mad people do.”

He held his head up proudly as he declared, “I’m running the Riverrun River Run in two months’ time.”

Ellaria’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. “You’re kidding me.”

“No,” he confirmed, “I’m not. I promised Brienne I’d do it.”

“And you’ll do anything for Brienne, right?” she said sarcastically.

“Yes,” he replied sincerely. “Anything.”

His sudden burst of honesty seemed to soften Ellaria’s expression somewhat. Putting one hand on his shoulder, she gave him some advice. “Some running tips: get some good shorts, chafing helps no one.”

Jaime nodded, now knowing she was one hundred percent correct.

“Nipple chafing is also a thing.”

“Is it?” he asked, horrified.

“Yep,” she replied, popping the ‘p’, “so you may want to get some protective cream or something.”

At that last statement, Jaime got his phone out and started taking notes. He really did need all the help he could get. “Anything else?”

“Running shoes,” she insisted. “And good socks. Your feet are going to be carrying your weight for twenty-six miles. You want them to be in the best condition possible.”

Jaime typed it all out on his phone. “Proper Shorts… Nipple Cream… Running Shoes and Socks. Thanks Ellaria.”

“My pleasure,” she smiled. Just then, she clearly caught something in the corner of her eye and turned to look. “Oh, and you’ll be pleased to know it’s time for you to get in a bit of running practice.”

“What?” asked Jaime, confused. “Why?”

“Ros has just arrived.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

* * *

After doing all day sprint training running up and down the High Street chasing Ros and yet more stolen love eggs, Jaime made his way over to _The Piano Shop _to find Bronn. The traffic was terrible, so it took much longer than normal, but the Hound was asleep by the front door, so Jaime went in unchallenged. Once inside, he was greeted by the sight of Daario and Euron in yet another high stakes poker game. Bronn was watching them from the side.

“Hey Jaime,” said Bronn as he entered the room. “Err… why are you walking like that?”

“Chafing from when I went out for a run this morning,” Jaime admitted uneasily.

At that, Bronn snorted. “Have you lost your fucking mind? Why did you go out for a run?”

Jaime sighed at repeating his earlier conversation with Ellaria. “I’ve found out a way I can try to prove to Brienne I’ve changed; I’m going to do the Riverrun River Run.”

To Jaime’s surprise, it wasn’t Bronn who laughed, but everyone else in the room; Asha’s mouth opened in surprise, Daario dropped his cards on the table, Euron clutched his sides laughing, Theon was sniggering behind his hand, and Salla was laughing so loud the walls nearly shook.

“Come off it, Jaime,” chortled Asha, “you can’t be serious.”

Jaime went to say something, but Bronn spoke for him. “If Jaime says he can do the marathon, then he can do the marathon.”

“No he can’t!” laughed Salla.

“Why not?” huffed Jaime.

Salla pointed at him and laughed harder. “Because you are a lazy bastard!” His comment just made everyone guffaw even louder, and against the cacophony of their amusement, Jaime felt his temper rise.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I _will _complete this marathon.” The tone of his voice caused the mocking laughter to die down, so he chose to press his advantage. “I’m sick of being a nearly man, alright? I’m sick of being scared. I’m sick of the regret I feel every day because I didn’t have the guts to marry the woman I love. All that ends when I complete this marathon. It will prove to Brienne that I can change.”

“I believe in you,” said Bronn, stepping forward to slap Jaime heartily on the back. Jaime thought it was probably just an attempt to get back in his good books after the ticket debacle, but he appreciated the support all the same.

Euron broke the silence to let out an amused huff. “I think you should put your money where your mouth is, Bronn.”

Bronn blinked. “What do you mean?”

Euron gave Bronn a familiar smirk that Jaime knew always indicated a bad idea. “Well, if you really believe that useless Jaime here can run a fucking marathon, what’s your wager?”

Bronn’s eyes lit up brightly at the prospect of a bet and Jaime had to slam his hand on Bronn’s chest to stop him agreeing immediately. “No, don’t do this.”

“Why not?” said Bronn, “you _are _going to do the marathon, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But, what?” asked Bronn. “If you say you are going to complete it, I believe you.”

Jaime was so shocked that someone had just publicly declared they believed in him that he went bright red and found himself momentarily silenced by the weight of what Bronn’s simple declaration meant to him. It perhaps wasn’t the best time to be dumfounded, as Bronn then used his quiet acquiescence to rack up huge gambling debts with everyone in _The Piano Shop. _In the space of thirty seconds, Bronn had bet twenty thousand pounds he didn’t have on Jaime’s ability to complete the Riverrun River Run.

_Oh shit, _thought Jaime distantly.

“Bronn…” Jaime eventually managed to stammer. “You can’t do this…”

“Too late,” said Bronn brightly. “Come on, we better get you off to training.”

“Training… what do you mean?” stammered Jaime as he let Bronn lead him out of _The Piano Shop, _followed by the laughter of Euron and his heavies and their insistences that they had all just made the easiest money of their lives.

Only once they were halfway down the road, miles away from Euron’s derision, did Bronn draw to a halt. “I used to do some cross country running for my school. I know a bit about it. I can be your trainer.”

Jaime huffed, “that was years ago. You’ve probably forgotten it all.”

“Probably,” agreed Bronn, “but we can still both safely say that even that meagre experience means I know a fuck ton more than you.”

Jaime couldn’t really argue with that, so he said, “alright. What do you suggest?”

“Well,” said Bronn, “I’ve got a three point plan. Firstly, you need to go and get some cream for that rash. You can’t run a marathon while walking like John Wayne.”

“Ellaria also suggested I get some cream for nipple chafing,” chimed in Jaime.

Bronn nodded. “Do that as well. Secondly, we’ll begin our training session at seven o’clock tomorrow morning, so make sure you are prepared. And finally…”

“Yes?”

“You are going to go running.”

Jaime raised an eyebrow at him. “I could have worked that out for myself.”

“Yes, but we both know you would give up in five minutes if I wasn’t there shouting at you.”

“Shouting at me?” said Jaime despondently. “Why will you be shouting at me?”

Bronn just laughed. “Because although I believe in you, mate, I now have twenty thousand pounds on you completing a marathon. This shit just got real.”

* * *

Jaime was still worrying about how real his shit had just got when he arrived back home after spending ludicrous amounts of money he didn’t have at the chemist on anti-chafing cream. Wanting nothing more than to go inside and phone Gal, make himself something to eat out of the old can of tuna and the pack of super noodles lurking in his cupboard, watch some crap TV and then go to bed, he instead found himself confronted by the eternal front door situation.

“Fuck,” he muttered when he tried his key and found, once again, he was locked out. “Margaery!” he called, not really putting any real effort into it this time. He hadn’t yet managed to pull all the money he owed her out of his arse, so he wasn’t expecting her to answer him. To his surprise, however, she opened the window almost immediately when he called and looked down at him distainfully.

He went to speak, but she just shook her head and said, “no”, before shutting the window again.

_I deserve that, _thought Jaime as he sat down on the front doorstep. He knew he owed Margaery money, but it was just so difficult to find at the moment. His mind was suddenly cast back to Tyrion’s offer of a job doing something with the law for the Citizen’s Advice Bureau.

_Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, _he thought uneasily. _Maybe it wouldn’t be the gateway drug back to my old self, and I could top up my income and pay Margaery back. Perhaps I should ask Tyrion more about it._

He had just got out his phone to call his brother when the window of the ground floor flat opened and he found Olenna Tyrell staring at him. “Are you going to sit there all night?” she asked.

“I’m not planning to,” he said honestly. “I might go and talk to my brother. He possibly has a job opportunity for me.”

“That’s good,” replied Olenna. “But it’s getting a little late for all that this evening. Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea?”

Knowing that was a better plan than anything he could come up with, Jaime agreed, following Olenna into her flat by just climbing through the open window. He was a little surprised by what he found; he was expecting a stereotypical old lady flat, but instead found the walls lined with vintage film posters that Jaime was sure were worth thousands.

_I should have known Olenna has class, _he thought.

“How do you take your tea?”

“Milk no sugar,” said Jaime, sitting on the sofa in such a way that he could discreetly scratch his rash while Olenna fussed around in her little kitchenette.

Two minutes later, she came back in with a tray loaded with a teapot, a jug of milk, and two cups with saucers. Putting it down on the table, she filled Jaime’s cup before her own, then lifted her tea to her lips. Jaime followed, trying not to look like a classless oaf, as she fixed him with a determined look.

“So,” she said, getting herself comfortable in her chair, “are you going to tell me why your life is in a complete and utter mess?”

Jaime opened and closed his mouth a few times before managing to find a response. “I wouldn’t say an _utter _mess, maybe just a mini-mess.”

“Mini-mess, utter mess, it’s all semantics,” she snapped. “I know you have a son, I heard you talking about him to Margaery once. Why don’t you live with him?”

Even though a blush was rising in his cheeks, something about Olenna’s firm but concerned expression compelled him to speak. “I broke up with his mother, six years ago.”

“Why?”

Jaime sighed, took a sip of tea, and then found himself telling her the whole story. How he had met Brienne in less than auspicious circumstances, when he had been nothing but a worthless criminal. Her words – _you disgust me _– ringing round and round his head every day since. That he had given up his entire career because he could not live with how very easily Brienne had stripped him of his bravado and seen right into him, even when he tried so very hard to hide the soft weakness at the centre of himself.

Then he moved onto the way he had fallen heedlessly, headlessly in love with that woman, and spent six months taunting himself with her derision, using the memory of her to turn away from his father and sister towards something better. How he had found her again, purely by accident, when he had downsized and moved into a flat only doors away from her shop. That he had persuaded her to give him a second chance, and he had wooed her by buying a cupcake every day and trying every single one, because he had wanted to know every flavour of her. How Brienne had been his light that he would have followed into the darkest storm.

“It all changed with the accident,” he said sadly. Jaime could still smell that acrid smoke and petrol, feel the terror of knowing that it was his fault that this had happened to her. Screaming, he had clawed his way back into the car and dragged her out, even though his right hand had been ruined beyond repair. Before that, Jaime had thought that he was only broken internally, but afterwards he had come to know that his whole self was shattered – his past, his present, his future, his hand – and he would never be good enough for her, not when she was so very wonderful. Not when she deserved better.

That night in Edinburgh, Cersei had caught him while he was ruminating on his own inadequacy. In a moment of madness, fear, and confusion, he had been consumed by the thought he could never escape what he once was, what he was always destined to be, and it had made him run away into the night. If he had known that Brienne was carrying their child, maybe things would have been different.

_Probably not, _he thought ruefully, _I would have still been a coward._

“I’ve regretted that decision every day since, and I’ll regret it until my dying day… it is why my life is the way it is – an utter mess.” Jaime looked back up at Olenna. Not liking how very serious he had made the conversation, he tried to smile at her and said, “how would you fix it if you were me?”

There was a beat of silence before Olenna spoke. “Well, first things first,” she said, putting down her cup. “I would get some cream for that rash.”

Jaime let out a breath of sheepish laughter before taking a sip of his tea. “Bronn’s already given me that piece of advice.”

“And here’s another,” she continued, her voice resolute. “You say you feared you were not good enough for Brienne, correct?”

“Correct,” said Jaime gently, looking into his teacup.

"That’s exactly what I thought the day I married my Luthor.”

“Really?” he said, lifting his head to take in her expression. It appeared sincere.

She nodded. “Really. I worried about it all the time, as Luthor Tyrell was a hot-shot businessman, and I was just a humble secretary. How could I ever be good enough? But then I realised I was being ridiculous. I loved Luthor well enough, yes, but in those early years I put him on a pedestal. After ten years of being married to him, I saw him for what he was; a kind man, good in bed, with a few oafish tendencies. I also learnt who I was; as Margaery has a habit of saying, I am a fucking ledge.”

Jaime snorted at that, before Olenna continued. “In the end, the hot-shot businessman and the fucking ledge were happy together, because we both spent every day making sure we were good enough for each other.”

Her statement hit him hard. “Every day?”

“Every day,” she confirmed. “Being good enough is not an end goal, it is a process. You have good days and bad. For that reason, you have the capacity to turn things around even now. You did a stupid thing, Jaime, by leaving her, but she loved you once. You must have earnt that somehow, and you can earn it again.”

He blinked at her. “With the marathon?”

For the first time in their conversation, she looked a little confused. “What?”

“I promised I would do the Riverrun River Run, to demonstrate to Brienne that I could change,” he said a little sheepishly.

Olenna outright laughed at that. “Well, it’s not the most orthodox way to redeem yourself, but it is perhaps a good start. A marathon requires discipline; getting up in the morning, being determined, seizing the day. There will be no more lying around in your pants feeling sorry for yourself like you have for the past six years if you are doing a marathon.”

Even though that was a low level insult, Jaime joined in with her chuckling. “My trainer Bronn is taking me out for a run at seven o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“Good,” she said resolutely. “This may be the perfect way to seize control of your life once more. Get out of bed, get yourself fit, take a small step at a time. From there you can think about your son and Brienne, and your place in their lives. And then before you know it, you’ll be on the path to reclaiming yourself, which is the biggest challenge of all.”

Jaime felt a little like he was standing at the top of a mountain having just been given the Ten Commandments by God, only this time God was Margaery Tyrell’s octogenarian grandmother. “Thank you, Olenna,” he said sincerely. “This chat has really helped.”

“I’m glad,” she nodded, “but these are only words. You actually have to be out there at seven o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“I will be, I promise,” he said.

_And in spite of what everyone says, _he thought, _my promises _are _worth something._

Olenna got to her feet at that. “Well, I think this calls for a celebration. Would you like a Chocolate Hobnob to go with your second cup of tea?”

Jaime smiled and for the first time in ages he felt as if anything were possible.

“Yes please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so hopefully we are finally at the end of mopey Jaime now, and he's going to start getting his life in order! I hope you are enjoying this, and if you are, please leave comments and kudos. I luuurrrvvee it!
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime decides to spend some time with Gal, but Hyle has other ideas...


	9. The Training Montage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime begins his training for the marathon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this was originally the first half of a chapter, but it got too long and unwieldy so I decided to cut it here. I hope you still enjoy it. As ever, comments and kudos make me sing!

At seven o’clock, Jaime was standing outside his flat with Bronn and, somewhat surprisingly, Olenna sitting in her mobility scooter.

“So, you’re going to be my coach,” said Jaime resignedly, turning to Bronn.

Bronn smirked. “Yep.”

He turned to Olenna. “Why are you here?”

“I’m the assistant coach,” she beamed.

Jaime looked at her confusedly. “Thank you for being so supportive about this, but… why do you get to be assistant coach?”

She gave a wicked grin before there was a flash of silver. “Because I have _this spatula!” _Before he could do or say anything, Olenna lifted the spatula and whooped him on the arse with it.

“Ow!” Jaime complained as Olenna gleefully smirked.

“Right,” said Bronn, getting his watch out. “Let’s get going then.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jaime. “What am I meant to be doing?”

Bronn rolled his eyes. “Well, _obviously, _you are going to start running!”

Olenna thwacked Jaime once more with the spatula and the stinging pain extended further through his arse. “OW!”

“Go on!” chided Bronn, “go!”

“Wait,” said Jaime, looking from Bronn to Olenna and back again, “isn’t there some sort of special technique or something?”

“Yeah,” nodded Bronn, “you put one leg in front of the other over and over again until you move forward.”

“Oh for fuck sake, that’s terrible advice!” moaned Jaime. That earned him another smack on the arse with the spatula. “OW! What the hell are you here for again?”

“Motivation!”

With Olenna’s particular style of motivation and Bronn’s jogging tips from vaguely remembered cross country courses twenty five years ago, Jaime managed to run a mile in a fairly respectable eleven minutes, with only one break to gasp for air. Bronn and Olenna followed him round the whole way, the former perched on the back of the latter’s mobility scooter.

“Keep your legs up,” commanded Bronn, “there is too much friction if you drag your feet and it will slow you down.”

“Oh god,” gasped Jaime, “my lungs.”

That earned him a whack of the spatula. “Only positive thoughts!” ordered Olenna.

Despite Olenna’s commands, the negativity that lived at the very centre of his soul was shouting at him to stop.

_This is going to be a very long, hard, two months, _he thought.

* * *

On day four, he completed the mile in ten minutes fifty seconds, and Olenna only hit him three times with the spatula.

On day five, it was ten minutes forty seven seconds, and he had the energy for some sprint training afterwards. Olenna praised him for being in a better, more positive mood.

By day nine, Bronn decided to up it to two miles and Jaime thought it wasn’t so terrible as he had been anticipating. He even noticed his tracksuit bottoms were a little loose. As it was a Monday, he had had to get up slightly earlier to have time for two miles, but he found he still had time to have a shower and get a bowl of Cornflakes at Olenna’s before walking to work. Given his cheery smile, Ellaria looked at him as if he were an alien when he arrived.

“Are you telling me you walked all the way to work?” she asked, dumfounded.

“Yeah,” said Jaime proudly, tightening his tie, “and I went for a run this morning.”

“Who are you and what have you done to Jaime?” joked Ellaria.

“I don’t know,” he smiled. “Maybe someone hit me on the head.”

That morning, Jaime found himself feeling surprisingly chirpy, even when Ros turned up and started loitering around the fluffy handcuffs.

“What are you doing, Ros?” asked Jaime suspiciously.

She smirked at him, “why, are you interested?”

“Only if you are planning on nicking something,” he said.

Ros fluttered her eyelashes coquettishly at him, “and here I was thinking this was the start of a long and beautiful relationship.”

Jaime tried not to think of Brienne at that, but it was somewhat difficult. She was all he had ever known of romantic love, so when anyone ever brought up relationships, she was all he had to compare. Part of him sometimes thought of taking Bronn’s advice and sleeping with Ros, but her hair wasn’t blond enough, her eyes not blue enough, and she was far too forward.

While wooing Brienne, there had been sweet words, coaxing, and so much blushing that by the end, he thought it was the greatest honour of his life that she had ever let him into her heart.

_It still is, _he thought.

Thinking about Brienne cost him a little time when Ros decided to dash out the store with two pairs of handcuffs, but to his surprise, it was not so exhausting as it usually was to chase her. He still had to take the familiar shortcut, but by the time he had charged into her and taken the handcuffs back, he wasn’t quite gasping for air.

“Ooooh,” cooed Ros. “Have you been working out?”

“Yeah,” he replied smugly. “I have.”

At the end of the day, Ellaria seemed to be in the best mood he had ever seen her. Jaime suspected it was because he hadn’t moaned about doing his work, had not fallen asleep, and had caught Ros without complaint. As Jaime tidied up his things and put them in his bag, ready to go home, Ellaria caught him by the arm and pulled him over towards the counter.

“So, have you got everything you need for this marathon?” she asked.

“Not quite,” he admitted, “I dealt with the various creams you suggested I get, but I still need to get all the running clothes and equipment together. I’ll have to wait until I get a bit more cash for that.”

Ellaria shrugged. “I could lend you some money to get some decent running shoes?”

“What?” said Jaime, gobsmacked.

“Well, without it you will probably find it quite difficult to get everything you need,” she said. “How does one hundred pounds sound?”

“Ellaria…” murmured Jaime, his cheeks going red, “you don’t have to do this.”

“I know I don’t,” she smiled, “but it’s good to see you actually trying to do something with your life for once. And if you complete this marathon, it will probably make you a more efficient security guard in the long run, so I also win.”

“Thank you…” he stammered, not quite sure what to say to such unexpected generosity.

“My pleasure.”

* * *

Armed with Ellaria’s money, after his shift Jaime used the hour before he needed to pick up Gal from his Gymnastics class to run down the High Street to _JD Sports _to pick up some decent running shoes. He found a pair of fairly comfortable ones for one hundred pounds, but a feeling in his gut told him that it would be better to not spend all the money and go for something a little less expensive. He eventually settled on a pair of bright red trainers with gold laces that were only fifty pounds and pocketed the rest.

_I’ll save it, _he promised himself, _or I’ll give it to Margaery._

That idea was swiftly undone when he passed a nearby toy store. In the front window was a beautiful remote controlled speedboat, complete with a little driver with a sailor’s hat. What really attracted Jaime to it was the name of the boat; _The Galaxy._

_Gal will love it, _he thought excitedly.

Ten minutes later he passed the newly purchased running shoes and the remote control boat through Olenna’s window, asking her to keep them safe until he got back later.

“Where are you going now?” she asked.

“To my son’s gymnastics class,” he replied. “I’ve got an hour with him before I have to take him home in time for tea.”

After Jaime picked up Gal from gymnastics, he took him for an ice cream. While Gal got a Triple Fudge Swirl, Jaime contented himself with a cup of tea. If he wanted to take this marathon thing seriously, he would have to stop eating crap.

_And smoking, _he thought darkly, _but I’ll give myself a few more days with that._

All the way back from the ice cream parlour, Gal kept telling Jaime about Bethany Beesbury and her love for newts. Apparently, he thought this was the coolest thing in the world, and he was trying to work up the courage to asking her to be his girlfriend.

“Just be brave,” said Jaime, squeezing Gal’s hand, “it’s all you can do in life.”

_I'll never take my own advice, though, _he thought.

When they got to Brienne’s house, they were perfectly on time, so Brienne greeted them both with a smile. “Hello Gal,” she beamed as he charged inside the house looking for a toy lizard he had somewhere. When Brienne looked confused, Jaime filled her in.

“Bethany Beesbury has a love of newts, so he’s decided to become a reptile and amphibian expert.”

“Oh,” she said, an amused smile quirking her lips. “Of course.”

At that moment, Jaime realised there was a shadow halfway down the hallway. Hyle was by the door to the lounge, watching the conversation unfurling between Jaime and Brienne. Not wanting to be riled by his presence, Jaime tried to keep his tone light and airy.

“Before I go,” he began, looking straight into Brienne’s utterly beautiful eyes, “can I just ask you a quick question?”

“Sure,” said Brienne, lingering at the door. Even as Jaime looked at her, he could sense Hyle watching him with his dark eyes.

“I’ve bought Gal a present, and I was just wondering if it was okay to take him out on Friday to play with it in the park.”

She furrowed her brow. “Of course it is, you don’t have to ask my permission to play with your son.”

“I know,” he said gently, “it’s just that I wanted to check he wasn’t grounded, or you weren’t trying to instil some discipline in him at the moment. I don’t want anything I do to upset all the hard work you do raising him.”

Brienne blushed quite brilliantly at that comment and Jaime felt his heart beat faster. “Thank you for the sentiment, Jaime, but we both raise him. He needs you as much as me.”

It was then Jaime’s turn to redden. “Let’s be honest, though, we both know you do all the hard work,” he smiled.

He knew she was trying to suppress a grin when she asked him her next question. “What have you got him?” inquired Brienne, curious.

Jaime smiled proudly. “It’s a remote control speedboat. I thought it might be fun to play with on the lake. Maybe it means I can play something other than Cops and Robbers with him.” Brienne outright laughed at that, but she stopped when Hyle cleared his throat in the background. Jaime felt his heart sink slightly; he never wanted her to be with someone whose mere presence could stop her laughing.

Perhaps not noticing the effect Hyle had on her, Brienne’s expression was more restrained when she next spoke to Jaime. “So,” she said, “I’ll see you on Friday then.”

He nodded, “definitely. Text me if any plans change, or I need to pick Gal up at a different time or anything.”

“Will do,” she said, offering him a little half smile as he turned and began to make his way down the path. When he was near the gate, she called out to him.

“Oh, Jaime!”

“Yes?”

“There’s a Parents Evening at Gal’s school in a week or so. I can’t remember the exact date or time, but it would be good for you to come with me.” Her eyes were shining so brightly that he felt his heart skitter.

“Sounds great,” he said, “just message me when and where.”

“Okay,” she replied. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, see you.”

Then, to his surprise, Brienne stayed at the door and watched him walk down the road for a while. The feeling of her eyes on him made his skin prickle and it took every inch of willpower not to turn around and look back at her. If he did, he knew he’d blow her a kiss.

_Maybe, _he thought wistfully, _maybe there’s a chance that I can at least earn her respect._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter. I hope you come back for the next one.
> 
> Next chapter... It turns out Hyle heard a vital piece of information from Jaime's conversation with Brienne...


	10. Speedboat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime tries to spend some quality time with Gal, but Hyle intervenes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for coming back! As ever, comments and kudos are great and I love you all!

On Friday, Jaime had arranged it with Brienne so he would have time to do a little sprint training with Bronn and Olenna before picking up Gal from hers to take him to the park and play with the speedboat on the lake. Consequently, when he arrived at Evenfall Lane, he was still wearing his new red trainers, some black jogging shorts Bronn had lent him for the duration of his training, a red vest top, and a red hoodie.

“Oh, Jaime,” said Brienne as she opened the door, looking him up and down before blushing slightly. “You look like you’ve been exercising.”

“Yep,” he grinned proudly, “I’m training for this marathon, aren’t I?”

Brienne looked at him bemusedly, “oh… yes… of course.”

At that point, Gal came thundering down the stairs, grinning enthusiastically. “Daddy! Mummy said you wanted to take me to the park and show me something cool!”

“Yes, little man,” grinned Jaime as Gal charged into him and wrapped his hands around his waist. Giving his son a quick squeeze, he gestured to his backpack. “I’ve got a present for you inside.”

Gal’s big blue eyes went wide. “What is it?” he asked excitedly.

“You’ll have to wait until we get to the park to see,” smiled Jaime. “Come on, let’s go.” Gal enthusiastically grabbed Jaime’s hand and the two of them turned to walk towards the park.

“Text me if you have any problems,” called Brienne.

Jaime looked over his shoulder to smile at her. “Don’t worry, wench, we will.” Brienne blushed a pretty pink at that, which made it very difficult for Jaime to turn away and walk away from her.

* * *

Gal was so excited by the prospect of the speedboat that he started jumping up and down. “Can I drive it?” he asked, trying to open the box with clumsy six year old fingers.

“Of course you can,” laughed Jaime. “Just give me a moment, I just need to read the instructions and check everything is working all right.” It wasn’t long before Jaime had _The Galaxy _on the water, the controls in Gal’s hands, and was showing his son the best way to steer the boat around the lake without accidentally murdering any ducks.

“What’s the name of the captain of _The Galaxy?” _asked Jaime, pointing at the little figure that commanded the boat as Gal made it whizz up and down in front of them. “Is it Gal Tarth?”

Gal giggled. “No, silly, I’m Gal Tarth!”

“Oh yes,” mugged Jaime, “of course I forgot. Stupid Daddy. Who is the driver then?”

“Elissa Farman,” grinned Gal. “Bethany is reading a book about her.”

Jaime felt himself smiling. Gal’s love for his tree frog looking, could-be-girlfriend was adorable. “Oh,” said Jaime. “And what did Bethany tell you about Elissa?”

“Elissa was a pirate queen,” Gal replied, as he began to make the boat turn in circles. “She was convinced there were lands beyond the Sunset Sea and wanted to discover everything in the world. So she went off in her boat and disappeared, never to return.”

“Ooooh, good story.”

“I know,” giggled Gal. “So that’s why the captain is called Elissa.”

They spent a few more minutes sailing Elissa and _The Galaxy _around on the lake, when suddenly an enemy vessel was spotted on the horizon. A huge, speedy battleship with retractable guns hoved into view, shooting at _The Galaxy _and almost knocking Elissa into the water.

“Hey,” said Jaime, looking around, “who owns that…?”

He didn’t need to ask the question, because in a moment he spotted Hyle and Brienne arm in arm walking up the path towards him, the remote controls for the battleship in Hyle’s hands.

“Hello,” smiled Brienne, looking at Gal and Jaime in turn. “I hope you don’t mind, but when I told Hyle where you had gone, he wanted to come and try out the battleship he’s apparently been waiting for some time to share with Gal. It might be nice for Gal and Hyle to spend some time together after all…”

Jaime gazed at Brienne, who looked nothing but sincere, while Hyle was giving him a cocky expression that was evidently throwing down the gauntlet. Feeling a knot in his stomach suddenly festering, Jaime fixed Hyle with a look that he hoped indicated that he accepted his challenge.

_Fuck you, Hyle, _thought Jaime angrily.

Despite his inner anger, he knew it would not look good in front of either Gal or Brienne if he started effing and jeffing at Hyle, so he tried to look non-effected by the intrusion. “Of course,” he said breezily, “but I think Gal is playing with…”

Unfortunately, it turned out Gal had all the loyalty and social tact of a regular six year old.

“Oh COOL!” he shouted, dropping the remote control of _The Galaxy _and running towards Hyle. “What is your boat called?”

“_The Conqueror_,” smirked Hyle, shooting another little cannonball at _The Galaxy. _This time, he was successful in hitting Elissa, and in a moment she had sunk into the murky depths of the lake.

Trying to suppress his annoyance, Jaime said, “hey Hyle, you just knocked Elissa…”

There was no getting Gal’s attention back from Hyle and his massive warship however, and in an obvious deliberate ploy, Hyle drove the monster ship speedily in the direction of _The Galaxy. _The resultant slosh of water overwhelmed the small boat, and before Jaime could attempt to stabilise it with the controls, it had joined Elissa in Davy Jones’ Locker.

Gal laughed when he saw the effect the giant warship had and Hyle just grinned smugly at Jaime. “You have to properly invest in remote control ships,” Hyle said authoritatively, as if he was the world expert. “If not, you just buy cheap and tacky rubbish that sinks in thirty seconds.”

The Old Jaime would have loved nothing more than to sink his fist into Hyle’s face, or at least frame him for a crime he did not commit, but knowing he would only embarrass himself Jaime just sighed and went to sit on a nearby bench. His hand automatically dropped into his pocket to look for his cigarettes and his lighter, but then he realised he was attempting to give up, and he hadn’t brought them with him.

_Crap, _he thought.

Jaime thought the best thing to do was to just wait a few minutes before saying his goodbyes, but to his surprise Brienne came and sat down next to him on the bench. The smell of her perfume overwhelmed him instantly and Jaime felt himself stiffen as she came close.

“I’m sorry about Hyle,” she said gently, “he can be a bit competitive sometimes, but I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Are you sure about that?” muttered Jaime darkly, looking over at Hyle and Gal standing by the edge of the lake. Hyle still had hold of the controls, and Jaime’s son was looking up at him expectantly.

“Hyle,” said Gal excitedly, “can I control it? Please?”

Jaime watched as Hyle shook his head. “No, but you can watch me control it.”

Suddenly, Jaime had the mind to go and push him in.

Ignoring the scene unfurling right under her nose, Brienne fixed Jaime with a look. “Yes, I’m sure. I know Hyle. He’s a good man, he’s…”

“Yeah, yeah,” moaned Jaime, “he runs marathons for children in Malawi, I know.”

It was Brienne’s turn to get a little cross at that. “I’m just saying you might like him if you got to know him. He’s with me, so he’s going to be part of Gal’s life after all.”

“But why?” asked Jaime, his frustration bursting out as he turned to look. “I can run a fucking marathon, I can…”

Her nostrils flared before she spoke this time, instantly telling Jaime that she was trying to suppress her own fury. “And? So what if you complete this marathon? I don’t really care. Just because you can run twenty-six miles, it doesn’t wipe the slate clean, it doesn’t change anything that happened between us…”

“I happen to think that our relationship was much more than just me leaving you at the hotel,” said Jaime, suddenly impassioned. “I remember everything that happened before then, and I know what it meant to us both.”

Flushing red with anger, she looked him straight in the eye, trying to convey her fury while keeping her voice down for Gal’s sake. “I remember too, Jaime, but you leaving me in a car park in my dressing gown is a _big fucking deal, _and it seems very clear to me that you think running a marathon outweighs that. I'm telling you now, it does not.”

Jaime wanted to tell her that he didn’t think that at all, but that the marathon was just the first step in showing her he could be sensible, responsible, and disciplined just like her new boyfriend was, but he found himself interrupted by Hyle, who had wandered over while still holding the remote control for the battleship.

“Oh, Brienne told me you were planning on running the Riverrun River Run,” said Hyle casually.

Jaime tried not to snap at him. “Yeah, and?”

Hyle shrugged. “Oh nothing, I was just surprised they let you in, that’s all.”

Jaime suddenly felt very uneasy. “Why do you say that?”

“Because runners have to be registered six months before the race, of course.”

_Oh crap, _thought Jaime.

Hyle smirked. “Unless you are running for a charity, that is?”

Jaime sighed, deciding to grab for the glimmer of hope. “Oh, I’m running for a charity, don’t you worry.”

“Which charity is that?” asked Hyle, surprised.

“Err…” said Jaime, “it’s… well…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo.... Jaime's in a bit of a fix...
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime, Bronn, and Olenna try to work out how to get Jaime registered for the marathon...


	11. The Charity Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bronn and Olenna try to help Jaime get registered for the marathon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for coming back! If you like this chapter, please leave comments and kudos. I love it :)

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” whispered Jaime, even as he was smoothing down the trousers of the suit Olenna had forced him into.

Bronn rolled his eyes. “Calm your tits, you look like you are about to wet yourself.”

“Don’t tell me to _calm my tits. _I’m sure this is some sort of fraud.”

Bronn smirked before shrugging. “At least I can claim ignorance when they drag me to court, you are a former barrister.”

“This just feels wrong,” insisted Jaime.

“We haven’t got much choice,” said Olenna, who was sitting between the two men in a wheelchair they had cunningly decided would make a better aesthetic.

Jaime sighed, “I could just pull out of the marathon.”

“No!” said Bronn and Olenna in unison.

“Why not?”

“Because I have twenty thousand pounds on this,” squawked Bronn.

“And this is making you better,” said Olenna, looking at him firmly.

Olenna’s statement quelled Jaime into submission, but then he muttered, “Brienne wouldn’t like it.”

Bronn rolled his eyes. “Think of the bigger picture. If we _do _this, you’ll be able to run the marathon and win Brienne back.”

“_Maybe _win Brienne back,” said Jaime darkly, “she said she didn’t care about the marathon…”

Then it was Olenna’s turn to tut. “This isn’t just about her, this is about _you _Jaime, and pulling your pants up and being a better person.”

Jaime scoffed, “but how can I claim I’m trying to be a better person when we’re just about to…?”

At that moment, the door swung open and a woman with mousy hair looked at the three of them. “They’re ready to see you now.”

* * *

Catelyn, Edmure, and Lysa Tully were the last three people Jaime wanted to see sitting at the head of the Riverrun River Run Charity Commission, but, of course, the universe made it that way.

_Well, I suppose it is better than the Baratheon brothers, _he thought glumly.

Catelyn let in a little intact of breath when Jaime entered the room. “Well, well, well,” she said, “if it isn’t Jaime Lannister.”

“Hello Catelyn,” he said, trying to sound as respectful as possible. Even though he knew the _Tully Corporation _sponsored the Riverrun River Run, he had no idea he would have to face the woman who, soon after he had left Brienne at the Winterfell Hotel, had left him an answer phone message where she called him a “chickenshit”, “a coward with no bollocks” and told him that Brienne was a better person than he would ever be.

Edmure grinned. “Jaime Lannister?” he said, “as in Tywin’s son?”

“Yep,” replied Catelyn, her voice icy. “And apparently he wants to run for a charity in our marathon.”

“Yes,” nodded Jaime, trying to keep his voice steady. “Yes I do.”

“And which charity would that be?” asked Lysa, leaning on her elbows looking incredibly bored with the whole process.

Jaime went to say something, but then Bronn spoke, kicking off the presentation that him and Olenna had so cunningly devised over the last few days. “Every year, ten thousand people are diagnosed with myopic temperalacutamentasitis or Wittelsbach Syndrome,” he began, his expression stoic.

Catelyn shook her head, “myopic tempera…?”

“Myopic temperalacutamentasistis,” Bronn repeated. Jaime knew he’d been practicing in the mirror.

“I’ve never heard of it,” scoffed Lysa.

“Ah,” said Bronn, a smile growing on his face, “I’m not surprised. It is a dreadful disease that is often suffered in silence. Today, to help us illustrate why it is so vital that Mr Lannister runs the Riverrun River Run to raise much needed funds for this worthwhile cause, we have brought Ms Olenna Tyrell with us. She has been suffering with the condition for the last fifteen years, haven’t you Ms Tyrell?”

“FUCK OFF YOU MISERABLE OLD BASTARD!” Olenna screamed.

Jaime felt himself internally cringing. He couldn’t believe this was actually what the three of them had sunk to – Olenna pretending to have a totally fake condition so they could persuade the _Tully Corporation _to give him a spot in the marathon. At Olenna’s outburst, Catelyn went wide eyed and confused.

“Is Ms Tyrell alright?” she asked, looking between Bronn and Jaime.

Bronn nodded. “Yes, but acute waves of debilitating anger are all part of myopic temperalacutamentasitis.”

“Or Hapsburg Syndrome,” said Jaime dourly.

“_Wittelsbach _Syndrome,” corrected Olenna.

Edmure was furrowing his brow. “And what are the other symptoms of this condition?”

“Loss of control of the upper body,” said Bronn, at which point Olenna started waving her arms above her head.

“Right,” said Edmure slowly, writing that down.

Bronn continued. “And narcolepsy.” Olenna began to fake snore at that. “It is a lesser known issue, but the sufferers of Wittelsbach Syndrome would greatly appreciate it if Mr Lannister could run in your marathon, because it would bring much needed funds and attention to their plight.”

_Fucking hell, this is fraud, _thought Jaime. _This is what Brienne doesn’t want me to be._

After Bronn’s statement, the three Tully siblings started quietly whispering to each other, before turning back to the petitioners. Catelyn spoke for the three of them. “Although I have no love for you, Jaime, it is clear that Wittelsbach Syndrome is a terrible condition that needs all the light shining on it that it can get. For that reason… and that reason alone… the _Tully Corporation _would be proud for you to run in our marathon.”

Even as Bronn and Olenna were high-fiving, Jaime felt his stomach fall. He could hear Brienne’s words from long ago sailing above the celebration.

_I know all about you _Jaime Lannister. _All about the bribery and extortion and the lengths you have gone covering up your family’s dirty little secrets. You’ve never done a good thing in your life and your mere presence on this planet makes it a worse place. Frankly, I would never go on a date with you if you were the last man on Earth, because you disgust me._

_You disgust me._

_You disgust me._

“Stop,” said Jaime, holding his hand up to bring Bronn and Olenna’s celebration to a halt. “This isn’t right.”

Catelyn narrowed her eyes at him. “What isn’t right?”

“Wittelsbach Syndrome isn’t real,” he sighed. “We made it up because I was late registering for the marathon and Hyle told me that charity cases can sign up later.”

Lysa let out a shocked little giggle at that; she was clearly loving the drama. Edmure was looking at Catelyn, waiting for her reaction. Bronn and Olenna were staring at Jaime as if he had gone mad.

_At least I’ll be able to sleep at night, _he thought.

“Why do you care so much about entering our marathon?” asked Catelyn gently.

Jaime took a deep breath; there was nothing for it but telling the truth. “Six years ago you phoned me and called me a chickenshit for leaving Brienne at the altar. You were right – I was chickenshit – and this marathon is the only way I’m going to prove to anybody that I’m not that man anymore. Gal deserves a father he can respect, my brother deserves me to stand up on my own two feet and not mooch off him the whole time… and Brienne… well, Brienne just deserves to know that I can keep my promises. I promised her I’d do this marathon, so that’s what I intend to do.”

Lysa snorted. “But you are not running for a charity, and the deadline for runners has passed.”

“I know,” said Jaime, trying to keep the desperation in his voice at bay, “but if you could just make an exception…”

Edmure shook his head. “We can’t make an exception. There are rules to these things.”

“Please,” pleaded Jaime, his voice quivering.

He looked at Catelyn, who he was surprised to find had something approaching softness in her eyes. “You’ve broken every vow you ever took…” she said quietly.

“But I can change,” he insisted, his voice rising, “just please give me a chance.”

At that, Edmure and Lysa turned to look at Catelyn, and Jaime suddenly knew where the true power resided. Brienne’s godmother gazed at him for a moment, seemingly weighing up every single one of his actions in the past six years and beyond – good and bad – before she finally shook her head.

“Edmure is right. There are rules to these things,” she insisted. “And while I agree that people deserve second chances, this would be your fourth, fifth, sixth chance?”

“Catelyn, I…”

The head of the_Tully Corporation _put her pen down. “Brienne already gave you a second chance after you decided to stitch up Renly. You betrayed her trust in a way that can never be forgiven. So I won’t let you bend the rules this time Jaime, my decision is final.”

His heart fell through the floor. “But Catelyn, please…”

“No,” she said. “Unless you can find an honest way of entering this marathon, I’m telling you now you will not be running.”

* * *

“Why the hell did you say that?” said Olenna as they stood at the top of the stairs of the _Tully Corporation _building, having just come out of their meeting with the Tully siblings. Olenna was fed up of sitting in the wheelchair, which was now being held by Bronn, and was stretching herself out. “If you had just kept quiet you would be on the marathon list right about now.”

“I know,” replied Jaime. “But what would be the point if I got there fraudulently? You said being better is making a conscious decision every day. This is just today’s decision.”

“Oh god, don’t play the martyr,” whined Bronn, letting go of the wheelchair to gesticulate at Jaime. “You should have seen the bigger picture… you should have…”

“OH MY GOD, IT HURTS! IT HURTS!”

Jaime looked round to see where the shouting was coming from, and suddenly it all made sense. Where Bronn had turned around to have a go at him, he had let go of Olenna’s wheelchair, and because all three of them were standing perilously close to the top of the stairs, it had tipped over the edge and gone careering down, smacking into the man who was now sprawled at the bottom.

“Oh fuck,” said Bronn, as the three of them charged down to the man lying at the bottom. “Are you alright, mate?”

The man looked up at them, “no I’m not alright! I just got hit by a wheelchair!”

Jaime bit his lip. “Where does it hurt?”

“My left leg,” the man groaned, “oh god, it hurts.” As Jaime looked down at him, he realised that the man’s leg was now sitting at rather an odd angle.

“I think it’s broken,” said Jaime.

“I’ll call an ambulance,” interjected Olenna.

At that, the man’s eyes went wide. “No, no, don’t do that! I’m fine!” In his attempt to show it wasn’t that bad, he attempted to get to his feet, but he was in so much pain that he fell back instantly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” spluttered Jaime, “you can’t even stand, can you… err… sorry, what’s your name?”

“Jorah,” he said, breathing rapidly, “Jorah Mormont.”

“Well, Jorah Mormont,” grinned Bronn. “Just stay down there. There’s no use in getting up. It looks like your leg is broken to me. Olenna, call him an ambulance.”

Jorah’s expression was one of horror. “But I can’t have a broken leg!”

“Why not?” asked Jaime.

He looked genuinely panicked. “Because I’m meant to be running the Riverrun River Run in a month and a half for a charity very close to my heart. It will be a disaster if I can’t run! Sponsorship will be put in jeopardy; it will be near impossible to find a replacement at this late date. What am I meant to do?”

Even though Olenna was in mid conversation with the paramedics, she joined in the three-way stare between herself, Jaime, and Bronn.

“I can replace you,” said Jaime suddenly, seizing the initiative.

Jorah blinked confusedly, “what?”

“You don’t have to worry about a thing,” he reassured Jorah as hope swelled in his heart. “I’ve been in training, but I’ve just found out that there was a… err… _problem _with my application. It will be no trouble at all to replace you.”

Jorah smiled with gratitude. “Thank you, you don’t know how much this means to me.”

Even as Jaime found himself overtaken by utter relief; Bronn was asking the important questions. “Which charity is it?”

* * *

In the car journey back to Margaery’s in Bronn’s pink Mini Cooper, Olenna and Bronn were in utter hysterics at the photo they had been sent by Jorah which showed the T-shirt Jaime was going to be forced to wear by his new charity sponsors during the marathon.

“_Erectile Dysfunction UK,_” chortled Bronn. “Oh, this is going to be perfect. Brienne is going to want you back in a heartbeat when you wear a T-shirt that implies you can’t get it up.”

In truth, Jaime wasn’t that bothered about the situation. Catelyn had told him that he could only run in the race if he did so honestly, and this way _was _honest. It was also going to be helping a good cause, which was a bonus.

_It was Bronn that dropped the wheelchair on Jorah after all, _Jaime told himself.

Leaving Bronn and Olenna to their laughing in the front of the car, Jaime looked at his phone and discovered he had a message from Tyrion.

_Tyrion: _Just spoken to Davos. He’s had a read of your CV and would only be too happy for you to do a few trial shifts at the Citizens Advice Bureau. I’ll send you over his number, so can you let him know when you can do?

Jaime thought about how to best respond for a moment. He would have to talk to Ellaria about shaking up his shifts at the shop, but he thought it was just about manageable with his marathon training. Part of him thought it might be best to drop Ellaria’s job all together, but she had been so kind in lending him money for his running shoes that he did not want to let her down.

_Jaime: _Thanks Tyrion. I will do. I just need to have a chat with Ellaria about my shifts at the shop first.

_Tyrion: _Okay, great! This is going to be a great opportunity for you, so I’m proud you’re taking this decision bro.

By the time they got back to Margaery’s Olenna and Bronn had calmed down enough that they were only sniggering and making silly dick jokes to each other. The hilarity stopped all together, however, when Bronn parked up and the three of them saw who was waiting for them by the front door.

“Ah, Loras,” grinned Olenna as Jaime helped her out of the car. “I’m so glad you are here.”

Olenna’s shining-haired grandson gave his grandmother a quick peck on the cheek before looking between Jaime and Bronn and back again. “Jaime, Bronn,” he said, warily.

“Loras,” nodded Jaime. He did not quite know what to say. Loras, of course, was Renly’s boyfriend, and given the years of beef between Jaime and the Bitch Posse, he didn’t feel as if he had anything to say. Olenna decided to cheerfully ignore the tension and smiled at all three men.

“I’ve called Loras round because I think you’ve moved beyond the basic tips that Bronn and I can give you, Jaime,” she said emphatically. “Loras is a personal trainer, so he will be able to take you to the next level.”

Loras’ mouth dropped open. “Grandma, you said you wanted me to train your neighbour. I didn’t know you meant _Jaime fucking Lannister._”

“Oh shut up,” snapped Olenna. “I’m paying you, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Yeah but nothing,” she commanded. “Jaime needs help to run a marathon. You are looking for clients. It’s a match made in heaven.”

It was now Jaime’s turn to object. “I can’t ask you to pay Loras for me,” he stammered, “and I don’t think it’s such a good idea, given everything that went on between me and Renly…”

Olenna shrugged. “I’ve just started online dating you know,” she said, as if that had anything to do with anything.

“Have you?” snorted Bronn.

“Yes. I’ve still got it and I could do with a man to replace Luthor,” she insisted. “But that’s not the point I’m making. Ever since starting the process, I’ve been reading this self-help book about dating, and do you know what it’s big piece of advice was?”

“No,” said Bronn, Jaime, and Loras in unison.

“Fuck the Past,” she opined, pointing at them each in term. “It doesn’t matter what has gone before. You can make yourself anew every day. And that’s what you are going to do, Jaime. You are going to Fuck the Past.”

It was Olenna’s exhortation that everyone should be fucking the past every day of their lives that finally persuaded Loras that he could do with a new client, and Jaime that he should just let her deal with the financial side of things. So, in one afternoon, Jaime became a representative for _Erectile Dysfunction UK _and his two trainers became three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that. This scene always makes me die in the film, so I had to include it (although Jaime is much more repentant than Dennis!)
> 
> If you like my stories in this anthology, please think about reading my new series of one shots "Many Flavours of Ice Cream". I have a vague "Run, Fat Knight, Run" prequel one shot planned, so it will be with you soon.
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime and Brienne go to Gal's Parents Evening, and as it is the longest they have spent together in six years, certain secrets come to light...


	12. Parents Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the night of Gal's Parents Evening, Jaime and Brienne spend some time alone...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks for coming back! I hope you enjoy this chapter. As ever, comments and kudos make my heart sing :)

Five weeks before the marathon, Jaime was starting to feel like it was all possible. The involvement of Loras in his exercise programme had certainly improved things; alongside the expected cardio, he had incorporated some weight training into the schedule to increase Jaime’s strength.

“You’ve got to carry yourself for twenty-six miles,” Loras had insisted, while Bronn and Olenna shouted at him that his form in his lunges was bad. “You need stamina, speed, and endurance. Weight training will complement the cardio and help make you stronger.”

By some miracle, Jaime had also managed to rearrange his schedule at Ellaria’s shop so he could incorporate some shifts at the Citizens Advice Bureau with Davos Seaworth. Davos was a kind man who believed passionately that the CAB should be there for people who had civil and legal difficulties they did not know how to deal with. Although Jaime had not actually been allowed to advise on any real cases yet, Davos had tried him out on some tester ones and allowed him to shadow one of the other case workers.

“I think you’ve got a good eye for this,” Davos had said gruffly at the end of the first week. “Another week of training and we might let you out into the real world.”

The fact that he had two jobs also meant that at the end of the month he would have more money coming in; he could pay Margaery and Ellaria back, and not feel like there was some great menacing cloud hanging over his head. He also might be able to eat something else other than noodles for once in his life. For that reason, on the evening of Gal’s parents evening, Jaime was in a fairly good mood as he put on a nice shirt, a pair of jeans, and a splash of cologne. The plan was for him to walk round to Brienne’s and then she would drive them to Gal’s school. Even though he knew that Hyle would probably also be tagging along, Jaime couldn’t help but feel a little excited about spending some time with her that didn’t include their regular prisoner exchange of Gal.

When he arrived at her house, he found Brienne waiting at the front door wearing jeans and a blue silk blouse. It was feminine, while being strong and dignified.

_Totally Brienne, _he thought.

On drawing closer, he saw she looked a little pale and tired. Perhaps there was also sadness in her eyes. Jaime felt himself deflate slightly; it was such a contrast to his own good mood. Wanting to make her feel better, he said, “you look nice, wench.”

At his comment, Brienne seemed to wake up from her distracted thinking and her cheeks went strawberry pink. “Thank you… you do too. Are you ready to go?”

Jaime nodded. “Yes, but is Gal coming… and… Hyle?”

Brienne bit her lip, looking downcast. “The school doesn’t like the children being there – I think they’re scared they’ll get a little too rowdy – so Gal is spending the night at my dad’s. And Hyle… Hyle… he wanted to come, but I told him after everything that went down on the lake it might not be a good idea.”

That genuinely perplexed Jaime. “Everything that went down at the lake?”

She looked contrite. “I know you were really excited about getting that present for Gal and that Hyle totally ruined it. I’ve asked him to apologise, but I’m not sure if he will.”

That Brienne had asked Hyle to apologise hit Jaime harder than he was expecting, so he gave her an easy smile. “Don’t worry. I don’t blame you if you can’t control your shithead of a boyfriend. You couldn’t control your shithead of a fiancé after all.”

Even though it was clear she was not in the mood for laughing, the corners of her mouth quirked in something approaching a smile. “Well, I suppose that’s true. Come on, let’s go. We don’t want to be late.”

Once they were in the car and on the way to Gal’s school, Jaime plucked up the courage to try and needle out what was wrong. Giving her another gentle smile, he asked quite stressed looking Brienne how her day had been.

“If I’m honest, fucking terrible.”

She was gripping the steering wheel a little too forcefully, and her shoulders were high with tension. Jaime could remember a time when, before he lost his hand, him and Brienne booked in a weekly massage session, where they rubbed each other down with oil and took time in releasing all the knots and kinks from each other’s bodies. When it had been his turn to massage her, Jaime had loved drawing patterns connecting her freckles, and as he had taken his time in running his hands over her skin, the conversation had got dirtier and dirtier, and always ended with him inside her.

“I can rub your shoulders if you want,” he teased. “I seem to recall that used to relax you.”

She fixed him with a warning look. “It won’t today. The Council have been complaining about my plans to expand the kitchen at the shop, so I had the building inspector having a go at me all day, lecturing me about Health and Safety regulations. And then the oven broke and I’m going to have to fork out hundreds of pounds to get a repairman in. And then Hyle…”

Jaime’s breath hitched in his throat. “What?”

Noting his reaction, Brienne looked determinedly at the road. “We had a bit of a row.”

Jaime knew it wasn’t his place, but he was too goddamn curious. “What about?”

“Parents Evening,” she replied bluntly, and Jaime could tell by her tone that she did not want to elaborate further, so he decided the best thing to do was to leave it.

Before long, they had arrived at Gal’s school and were shuffled into the corridor outside his classroom to wait for Ms Tarly. As the queue to speak to the teacher was fairly long, the pair of them were forced to sit on tiny children’s chairs and look through the big box of schoolbooks labelled _Galladon Tarth_.

“We both look like Gandalf visiting the Shire at the beginning of _Lord of the Rings,_” smirked Jaime, noting the way both him and Brienne were awkwardly squished into the chairs. Once he got a smile out of her, he picked up Gal’s maths book, admiring the long list of incorrect answers on nearly every single page.

“More like Hagrid and Madame Maxime,” said Brienne wryly, copying him by examining Gal’s English book. “Neither of us have a great big grey beard after all.”

“True,” smiled Jaime, “are you Hagrid or Maxime?”

“Well, I must be Hagrid,” she said, flicking through Gal’s book.

“Why is that?”

Brienne shrugged. “Because you’ve always been the pretty one.”

He turned to her, raising her eyebrows. “Oh have I?”

Realising what she had just said, Brienne suddenly went magenta and pointed at something in Gal’s book. “Look at this picture of a cat that Gal has drawn. Isn’t it good?”

Jaime leaned over to have a look. Although it was a tiny bit out of proportion, for a six year old, it was pretty amazing. “Oh wow,” grinned Jaime, “yes that’s great. He must get all his creative talent from you.”

Expecting Brienne to smile or blush or react in some way to his compliment, he was instead greeted by her staring wide-eyed at the page, doing a great impression of a deer in the headlights. Furrowing his brow, he leant across and pulled the book slightly towards him, her fingers almost touching his own. It did not take him long to notice what she was looking at. Ms Tarly had set the children a task to create a list of five things that they wished would happen. Four of Gal’s points were things like going to Disneyland during a school day and having a pet lizard, but Jaime worked out what had caused Brienne’s expression when his eyes fell on Gal’s first statement.

_I wish that Mummy and Daddy wuld stop prettending they dont lyke each other. Daddy told me that Mummy is the most wunderfall woman in the world and Mummy always looks at fotos of Daddy on her fone. They shuld just tel each other becos it wuld make me happi and it wood make them happi._

Jaime swallowed hard, suddenly feeling as if he would rather ingest a box of nails than look up at Brienne at that precise moment. The awkward silence blooming between them was as intrusive as a third person planting their arse next to them and starting a conversation about human cannibalism. Not knowing what to do to ease the tension, Jaime went for the crappy joke option.

“Gosh, we really need to help Gal with his spelling, don’t we?”

Brienne let out a little “mmm” sound, her hand just inches away from his on Gal’s schoolbook. Even though he wasn’t looking at her, he could tell that she was trapped in the same well of embarrassment as him and was compensating by staring furiously at Gal’s awkward handwriting.

_Be brave, _he thought, remembering some advice he had once given Gal. _Be brave and look at her._

Brienne seemed to have a similar idea at the same time, because suddenly he found himself gazing into her deep blue eyes and quite forgetting himself entirely. She had gone bright red, but Jaime found he couldn’t tease her for it because he could tell by the heat in his own cheeks that he probably looked exactly the same.

“Gal is six,” he said, his throat dry, “what does he know?”

Brienne’s expression seemed to intensify. “So, you didn’t say that to him?”

“What?”

“That I’m the most wonderful woman in the world.”

Jaime said it all the time to Gal – he couldn’t lie about it. “Of course I said it.”

Brienne blinked. “Why?”

He felt the corners of his mouth turning up in an echo of a smile. “Because it’s true.”

“Oh.”

Emboldened, Jaime then followed that with, “and I thought you said you didn’t have any photos of me?”

Brienne took a deep breath before flushing an even deeper shade of red, “well, I…”

Jaime never got to hear her answer, however, as at that moment the door of Gal’s classroom swung open and Ms Tarly appeared, notebook and pen in hand. “Ms Tarth? Mr Lannister? I’m ready to see you now.”

* * *

Even though it was very pleasant to hear from Ms Tarly what a wonderful, if overly imaginative, child their son was, Jaime could tell that things had suddenly got very tense between him and Brienne. Every time he turned to look at her to confirm something about Gal, she would only respond straight to their son’s teacher, asking questions about dyslexia testing and after school art club. It continued once they had finished their appointment, as she point blank refused to look at him as they walked down the corridor, even as Jaime tried to engage her in conversation.

“Gal’s doing well, all things considered, don’t you think?” he asked, trotting along beside her quite quickly to keep up with her.

“Mmm,” said Brienne, not giving him anymore to work with than that.

They stayed trapped in an awkward silence until they reached the main doors of the school, which were difficult to traverse given the high volume of gossiping parents loitering around. The good thing about it was that Brienne couldn’t charge off away from him given the human maze they had to cross, although unfortunately, Jaime accidentally charged straight into Selyse Baratheon.

“Oh, sorry,” he said casually. Jaime hoped he would take that as a sorry for crashing into her and swiftly move on, but going by the expression on her face, her mind immediately jumped to that one time that he had stitched up her husband.

“Jaime Lannister,” she spat, “what the hell are you doing here?”

“It’s Parents Evening, isn’t it?” he said curtly, “I’m here to see how my son is doing at school. Why are you here?”

“Same reason,” she hissed. Jaime recalled that Selyse and Stannis had a daughter; Shireen was a whey-faced terrified looking girl who appeared to never go out in the sun. Not wanting to start a row at Gal’s school, Jaime went to move past her, but Selyse wasn’t having any of it. “Oh, I see you brought along that poor cow you knocked up and left at the altar.”

It was at that point that Brienne noticed what was going on and her eyes went wide at the sight of Selyse. At one point they had been friends, bonding over the shared experience of the persecution of Stannis and Renly. However, that relationship had quickly curdled when Brienne and Jaime had become an item, and Brienne and Selyse had eventually had an acrimonious row over Jaime’s honour, after which their friendship was irrevocably broken.

“Selyse,” said Brienne mildly, clearly not wanting a row either. “If you don’t mind, I’ve had a very long day…”

“I _do _mind,” said Selyse imperiously. “This man framed my husband _and _his brother. I thought you were Renly’s friend, and yet here you are fraternising with him again.”

Brienne clicked her tongue, “I’m not _fraternising _with him. He’s Gal’s father and he has as much right to be at this Parents Evening as me.”

“Poor Gal,” laughed Selyse cruelly. “Not only does he have to put up with that waste of space as his father, but his mother is irresponsible enough to let him back into that poor boy’s life and give him a second chance.”

Jaime shot a quick glance at Brienne, expecting her to rip Selyse's face off, but instead she just looked very tired. They had known each other for such a long time and so intimately that Jaime could tell immediately this was about more than just building inspectors and broken ovens. Hyle must have said something really terrible to her when they argued. Seeing how sad she was, Jaime just wanted to wrap her in his arms, take her home, and look after her.

“Selyse,” Brienne said wearily, “please.”

Yet, unfortunately, Selyse was in no mood for entreaties. “Sometimes as a mother,” she preached, “you have to make decisions that put aside your own desires and lusts and do what is right by your child.” At her self-satisfied proclamation, Selyse held her nose up in the air as if she smelt something nasty under it, and that nasty thing was Brienne.

_I’m not going to put up with this shit, _thought Jaime.

“Be quiet, Selyse,” he snapped. “Nobody cares about your opinions on motherhood. Everybody knows you lock that poor little girl of yours in your house because you are embarrassed of her disfigurement, so get off your fucking high horse. Brienne is a wonderful mother. She keeps Gal fed, she clothes him, she reads to him, she loves him. He is such a wonderful little kid because of _her_; his creativity, his curiosity, his joyful enthusiasm for everything is entirely due to Brienne.”

Jaime could feel Brienne staring at him as if he had entirely lost his mind, but he didn’t care. He would not let Selyse Baratheon of all people question what a brilliant mother Brienne was. “Now, if you would kindly fuck off, Brienne and I are trying to leave.”

Both Brienne and Selyse wore matching expressions of wide-eyed shock, but it was only Brienne’s hand he took as he matched out of the school, across the carpark and straight to her Audi. Only once there did Jaime permit himself to look at her, dropping her hand because he was afraid of what emotion he would find there. Her expression remained frozen – amazed, shocked, beautiful – and it impeded what she was trying to say for a good few seconds.

Eventually, she stammered, “why did you say that?”

“What?”

“All that stuff you just said to Selyse.”

Jaime sighed. Why did she believe he thought so little of her? Why did she think so little of herself? “Because you _are _a wonderful mother,” he pronounced, before adding, “_and _the most wonderful woman in the world.”

Brienne began working her mouth, trying to find the words. “Then… why?”

Although she did not outline what exactly she was referring to, Jaime knew what Brienne meant; why did he leave her in the snow, why did he not turn up at their wedding, why did he run away.

Even though he had spent six years of tormenting himself over that very question, Jaime did not have the strength to give her an adequate answer.

“Come on. You look exhausted and you’ve had a long day. It’s time to get you home.”

* * *

Brienne did not say anything when they arrived back at her house, but the way she looked at him when their eyes met in the car told him she needed him; somehow, in some manner, perhaps in a way she did not really understand. Consequently, once the car pulled up on her drive, Jaime and Brienne did not say their goodbyes, but instead he silently followed her into her house, interpreting every one of her movements as an instruction to come with her. Not saying a word, Jaime let Brienne lead him into the kitchen. Even though she looked tired, she wasted no time in turning the radio on – Ed Sheeran’s _Thinking Out Loud _– before going over to one of the cupboards above the sink and pulling out two glasses and a bottle of Scorpion.

“I always thought you were always a wine girl myself,” he said gently.

“Not tonight,” she replied, coming back to the high kitchen counter and pouring the spirit into the two glasses, before handing him one. “I need oblivion.” Before he could take a sip of his own, she had chugged hers down in ten seconds and was pouring herself another one.

_This is why I love this woman, _he thought. _She doesn’t give a fuck about revealing herself to me._

“Not drinking Lannister?” she said, half mocking, half teasing, appraising him even as his eyes trained on her.

A smile danced on his lips. “Of course, but you haven’t asked me a question yet.”

She looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he smirked, “the last time I drank Scorpion I was at university and it was in the middle of a game of _Never Have I Ever_. So, if you expect me to drink this poison, you’ve got to ask me a question, wench.”

Brienne narrowed her eyes at him before downing her glass again. She was going to be trashed before long, he could tell, but the prospect of alcohol seemed to make her brave, so she did what he requested and asked him a question. “You like my shirt?” It was true, he did like her shirt, and he had told her as much earlier, so he took a sip. Brienne nodded, as if acknowledging his honesty, before saying, “your turn.”

He thought about it for a moment, and then said, “you’re angry at Hyle.”

Brienne seemed to stiffen slightly at the mention of her absent boyfriend, but nevertheless she took a drink. It was then her go. “You seriously think you are going to complete this marathon.”

That time, he drank determinedly, wanting to convey how committed he was to finishing the Riverrun River Run. It wasn’t just Brienne and Gal he was doing this for now, but Olenna and Bronn and Loras, _Erectile Dysfunction UK_, and most importantly himself. When he put his glass down, her expression softened slightly.

_Was there a hint of pride there? _

However, Jaime shattered whatever warm emotion Brienne was feeling with his next question.

“You still have photos of me.”

For a split second, her eyes widened, not expecting him to repeat the unanswered question that had been dangling between them all evening. Yet Brienne Tarth was no coward and no liar, so she took a sip of the Scorpion. Jaime knew her well enough to see the alcohol was quickly going to her head, but he was so intrigued about where these questions would end that he let her continue.

_I’ve always been selfish that way._

“You still have photos of _me_,” she parried, raising an eyebrow. He drank, seeing it as a point of pride. Jaime thought about his next question for a moment, and in that small gap of time she took a few steps towards him. If he wanted, he could have reached out and touched her.

“You think about the time we had together, before Winterfell.” At the mention of that hateful night, Brienne flinched slightly, but even so Brienne was unafraid and took another gulp. He could not help but gaze at the delicately strong line of her throat every time she lifted her chin to drink.

So entranced by the familiar pattern of freckles that he had once pressed kisses into, Jaime barely noticed her moving forward. By the time it was her turn, she was right in front of him, breathing heavily, her blue eyes glistening as if reflecting a flame.

“You think we’re going to get back together.”

Jaime didn’t know if it was a question, or a challenge, or an invitation, but he could feel how hot the kitchen had got and how heavy her words seemed. There was the possibility it was a trap, but if the last month had taught him anything, it was that honesty was the best policy, so he took a swig of his drink.

In a moment, Jaime knew it was the wrong thing to do.

“You are such a smug bastard,” she growled. “Always thinking you are going to get your own way.”

He wanted to laugh at this level of emotion he could so easily inspire in her, but in truth he was keener on identifying exactly where her irritation had come from. Was it just years of pent up rage exploding now they were alone in each other’s proximity, or was it hiding something else? Although he suspected his next move wasn’t wise or clever, Jaime desperately needed to know how close her six years had been to his own. Putting his glass down, he looked her straight in the eye and said, “you still fantasise about me.”

“What?” she snapped, her cheeks turning redder and redder by the second.

“Answer the question, wench,” he said breathlessly, his bravery growing with every quickening beat of his heart. “Do you still fantasise about me? Because you’re all I think about when I put my hand on my cock.”

At that pronouncement, Brienne let out a little gasp, her eyes wide. Seemingly, she couldn’t believe he would ask her something so daringly emotionally intimate over a game of _Never Have I Ever. _Nevertheless, it would have been dishonourable for her to lie, so being the woman she was, she lifted her glass and downed it in one, her throat bobbing with every gulp. At the sight of her flushed face, her exposed neck, and her admittance that she still thought about him when she touched herself, all the hairs on his arms seemed to stand on end. When she looked back at him there was fire in her eyes.

_She still thinks of me in that way, _he thought in wonderment, _I still have a chance…_

Even though Jaime had asked the question, he had not been prepared for such a bold answer, so hadn’t quite prepared an adequate response to her provocation. What came out of his mouth therefore only succeeded in sounding smug. “Thank you.”

Instead of her being placated by his reply, it only seemed to enrage her. “Don’t say thank you,” she spat.

Whatever emotion Brienne had been trying to suppress all evening was now dangerously near the surface, so Jaime knew he had to make a U-turn. Wanting to calm the situation down, he said, “whatever you say, wench.”

Once it came out of his mouth, however, he realised it just sounded condescending. _Wench _was familiar, flirty, and tender when whispered between lovers, but between him and Brienne? After Scorpion and _Never Have I Ever_, it was too much.

Wanting to repair the damage, Jaime went to say something else, something conciliatory, but it was too late as she had completely snapped. Slamming her glass down on the counter, Brienne lunged for him. In one sharp push she had shoved him against the kitchen wall, her eyes wild.

“You don’t know what you still do to me, you bastard.”

“I…”

“Shut up,” she raged, her anger burning quickly and brightly, “just shut up for once in your goddamn life.”

And then her hand was on his throat and her tongue was in his mouth and she was pinning him back against the wall with all the strength she had, tasting of alcohol and Brienne. Jaime was so shocked he just stood there accepting it for a moment, even as she thrust one of her thighs between his legs and began to rub herself against him. For six years he had waited for this, for Brienne to be back willingly in his arms. And yet this wasn’t how he wanted it at all; her angry, drunk, and upset. He wanted her to be happy, for her to find peace and safety with him. Once, she had said that she was home when she was with him and yet now it felt like she was trying to assault an enemy’s castle. He remembered the last night they had spent in the same bed at the Winterfell Hotel, when she had rode him furiously and told him how much she loved him, and he had said it back over and over again. He wanted that, not a quickie against the kitchen wall. And he did not want to take advantage of her when she was intoxicated.

Using as little force as possible, he pushed her away. “Brienne, stop.”

“No,” she growled. “Just shut up and fuck me, I know that’s what you want. I see the way you look at me. I need a good fuck after the day I had, and you are still the best sex I’ve ever had you selfish, stupid bastard.”

She had so much anger toward him, so much fury, and he knew he deserved it all. It made him want to cry. A lump bloomed in his throat as he put his hand on her cheek. “Brienne, look at me.”

“What?”

“It’s me, Jaime,” he said.

“I know. Jaime fucking Lannister. You call me wench and I call you a whiny little bitch, then we fight and we fuck.” Even though he was staring at her incredulously, she kept rambling, her voice breaking with emotion. “You call me stubborn and I call you stupid and then you leave me at the fucking altar and break my heart into a million pieces and never apologise and yet we can’t stop loving each other.”

Jaime froze. _And yet we can’t stop loving each other._

Brienne didn’t seem to realise what she had just said, because she was still looking at him with angry, lustful eyes, breathing heavily. Even if what she said was true, it had been pulled out of her by a bottle of Scorpion and a stupid game of _Never Have I Ever_. It did not seem fair to use her vulnerability against her now, nor draw out the truth once again from her flushed lips.

“Yes,” he said gently. “I’m Jaime fucking Lannister. Gal’s dad. The hateful bastard who left you crying in the snow six years ago. The guy who doesn’t deserve you. You don’t want to sleep with me, Brienne. This is just because you’re upset, tired, and a bit drunk.”

“No, it’s not…” she said, dropping her hand from his neck.

“Yes,” he insisted. “Yes, it is.”

Then the waves crashed on the shore. She stepped back and covered her face with her hands. “Oh god… I’m nothing but a bitch on heat.”

Not liking to hear that from her, he tried being tender. “Come on,” Jaime said, slipping out from his position against the wall so he could cross to the sink. “Let’s get you a drink of water.”

Grasping her glass, he gave it a quick rinse, removing all trace of the Scorpion, before filling it up with water. Watching the liquid swilling around, he tried not to hear her words reverberating around and around in the slowly swelling silence.

_And yet we can’t stop loving each other._

_And yet we can’t stop loving each other._

_And yet we can’t stop loving each other._

“Jaime,” she moaned, still covering her face, trying to find some words.

“Shhh…” he whispered, “it’s alright. You said so yourself. It’s been a long day. You're tired... stressed. Come on, it’s probably best you go to bed. You look exhausted.” He stepped forward and put the glass in her hand, before tapping his prosthetic hand on her elbow.

Her expression was apprehensive. “You’re… you’re… going to take me upstairs?”

Jaime nodded; his mouth dry. “Only to check you are alright.”

_Not to kiss you again, or take you in my arms, or fuck you senseless, or tell you I love you, _he thought._That would be taking advantage, and I could never do that to you._

Brienne’s consent was conveyed in an almost imperceptible bob of the head and, just as he had let her lead him from the car, he followed her upstairs in a kind of reverent silence. Neither of them looked at each other until they were hidden in the safety of her bedroom, a place that had once been a sanctuary for the both of them.

After putting her water on the bedside cabinet, Brienne sat down on her bed and gazed up at him expectantly.

“Jaime.”

“Brienne.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, running one hand through her hair. “I’ve had a fucking awful day.”

“Don’t,” he said gently, taking the opportunity to sit down beside her. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. Just make sure you drink some water before you go to sleep, otherwise you’ll have a terrible headache tomorrow.”

Jaime went to retreat, but he found her reaching out for him, grasping at his shirt with her hands. “Stay with me, please… Stay.”

For a split second they were both back in a snowy carpark with the frost biting at his heels, her looking like an angel in the silvery moonlight. This time, Jaime knew he couldn’t leave her. “I’ll be here,” he reassured her. “I’ll sleep in Gal’s room, so you know where I am if you need me.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “It’s just… Hyle said some pretty terrible things when we argued, and I know he’ll be sorry in the morning, but I don’t want to be alone right now…”

Yet again, Jaime felt the compulsion to go and do Hyle some physical bodily harm. Instead, he stayed sitting on Brienne’s bed looking into her eyes, letting himself drown in the endless blue. “What did he say?”

“Lots of things,” she said sadly, looking down at her own hands. “He said… he said… that I always act like a bitch on heat around you, and that I shouldn’t be going to Parents Evening with you if I cared about our relationship. He wants me to totally cut you out of my life, but how can I do that? I don’t make sense if you’re not here. Your Gal’s father. You are my…”

She stopped speaking suddenly, trapping unsaid words behind her teeth. He waited for a moment, but she gave him nothing else. Reeling from her aborted revelation, Jaime let out a little breath, trying to temper the tension between them. “And here was I thinking you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you,” she said softly, and Jaime wanted nothing more to get on his knees and thank her for her generosity, because he knew he deserved her loathing. What he had done to her was despicable, after all. What had Selyse said?

_Knocked her up and left her at the altar…_

Yet sitting beside her, he could not prostrate himself before her like a penitent. Instead, he decided to needle at the seams of what she had just said. “_Do _you care about your relationship with Hyle?”

“Yes… I mean… I think so,” she said, her voice rising with her distress. “I just want to make something good, something normal, something nice with him. It doesn’t have to be some great sweeping passion because I know from bitter experience that they can be disasters.” Jaime knew she was talking about him, but kept his mouth shut because he wanted to listen, wanted to understand. For a moment, he longed to see the world through her eyes.

“And I’m fed up with being lonely,” she sniffed. “It’s been six years and I can’t let myself be hung up on you forever.”

This was the conversation they had been avoiding ever since that fateful night at the Winterfell Hotel. Given that this situation had all happened so unexpectedly, Jaime was suddenly very thankful for Hyle Hunt’s rudeness, Selyse Baratheon’s bitchiness, and the Health and Safety regulators, or Brienne would have never allowed two glasses of Scorpion to go straight to her head. Without that strange course of events, she would never have talked to him like this.

Trying to keep his voice steady, Jaime asked her the question he knew he needed the answer to, like he needed air to breathe.

“You’re still hung up on me?”

Maybe it was the question itself, or the aching tone he delivered it in, but those few words caused her to look back up at him and search for something on his face. He could tell his own breathing had gotten heavier, and maybe hers had too, and he just wanted to pull her close and kiss her and make everything right again… make up for his own weakness and stupidity and the six unnecessary years of pain he had caused her…

It was not to be.

“What am I doing?” she said suddenly, her tone a mixture of horror, surprise, and incredulity.

Jaime found it very difficult to speak, but when he did his voice was husky. “I don’t know. What _are _you doing?”

Folding her arms, she took a quick breath, steadying herself. This was the Brienne he knew; one not made for grand statement of emotion, but always drawing herself in, making the _rational _decision.

“I’m saying goodnight to you, Jaime.” Even though her tone was firm, forthright, the sound of his name on her tongue made his heart beat faster. “So… goodnight.”

Brienne was looking at him, waiting for him to do something, perhaps _wanting _him to do something. Not knowing the best course of action, Jaime decided to perform the only scrap of intimacy she would allow him. Leaning forward, he planted a short, chaste kiss on her forehead, before gazing into her eyes and offering a “goodnight Brienne” in return.

Jaime did not know if it was her shocked expression, or the encroaching fear that everything was balancing on a knife edge that caused him to act. Not looking back at her, for fear of what he would see, he got up from the bed and retreated swiftly from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooo, what do you think? Please let me know in a lovely comment!
> 
> Next time... Jaime thinks everything is looking up for him on the day he takes his first case with Davos...


	13. Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Gal's Parents Evening, things are looking up for Jaime...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for coming back for this chapter. Comments and kudos give me wings, so keep them coming!

When Jaime opened his eyes, there was light streaming into the room, letting him know immediately that he wasn’t in his basement flat. Blinking, he felt a dull throbbing in his head.

_The Scorpion, _he thought. _Loras will kill me for drinking during the training period._

Sitting up, he ran a hand through his hair, shielding his eyes slightly so as to get accustomed to the light. And then he remembered.

_And yet we can’t stop loving each other._

Brienne’s words went around and around his head and he tried to interpret them in any other way than the obvious. After six years, he could not allow himself to be this hopeful, so he attempted to reshape it into something else – friendship, affection for her child’s father, cool indifference.

_And yet we can’t stop loving each other._

Not wanting to let himself get totally overwhelmed by the promise of the future in a way he hadn’t for years, Jaime got himself out of bed and looked at Gal’s dragon clock on the wall. It was 7:30, meaning he would have to be quick if he wanted to get home to shower and change before being at the Citizens Advice Bureau at 9:00 for his shift. Crossing the room, he made his way over to the chair where he had put his clothes the night before. He had just got into his jeans when the bedroom door opened; it was Brienne carrying a cup of tea.

_And yet we can’t stop loving each other._

“Oh,” she said, shocked, clearly mortified that she had walked in on him half dressed. She tried to back out the door still holding the tea, but Jaime held up his hands in a conciliatory expression.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” he smiled, reaching for his shirt and putting it on. As last night had been weird and intimate for the both of them, he didn’t want to make things awkward now, so he immediately began doing up the buttons on his shirt.

Or at least he attempted to, but it was very difficult with one hand.

Turning away from her so she didn’t have to see him struggling, Jaime instead decided to focus on the sounds of her entering the room; her feet padding across the carpet, the gentle clicking of her left ankle from an old hockey injury years before, the knock as she placed the tea down next to his bed. Then there was a silence as she stood behind him, watching him, and in spite of himself he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickling.

_And yet we can’t stop loving each other._

Part of him wanted her to leave the room so he could struggle with his buttons in peace, but on the other hand Jaime was enjoying the feel of her eyes on him. Her gaze was devoid of the scorn she had so often worn for six years and was now somewhat… soft? Understanding? Tentative? Unsure?

But, in the end, Brienne wouldn’t let him stay in the tender agony of her gaze forever. He heard her take a few steps behind him, and before he knew what to do, she had put a hand on his shoulder and turned him around to face her. Her eyes were bright.

“Oh, move aside,” she said gently, brushing his hand away so she could do up his buttons with quick, deft fingers. Brienne started at the bottom and worked her way upwards, and as she did so he desperately tried to ignore the heat radiating from her, that he was inches from her touch. Knowing only danger awaited him if he looked her in the eye, he focussed on her shoulder, trying to ignore the words going around and around his head.

_And yet we can’t stop loving each other._

“There we go,” she said softly when he was safely buttoned into his shirt. “All done.”

“Thank you.” Jaime well remembered what had happened last night when he had said thank you; she had stuck her tongue down his throat. Brienne also seemingly remembered too, as she went a radiant pink colour.

“About last night…” she began.

“Don’t,” he said quickly. He didn’t want to talk about it for fear that she would say none of it meant anything at all. “You don’t need to justify yourself or apologise or thank me any of the thousand things that are currently running through you head. We all get a little bit emotional sometimes, and that’s fine.”

He thought he saw the tension in her shoulders decrease somewhat at that comment and it seemingly gave her the courage to ask, “so, you’re not going to tell Hyle?”

Although the petulant, childish part of him would have very much liked to have gone up to Hyle Hunt and screamed _your girlfriend fantasises about me while she’s fucking you _in his face, Jaime didn’t think that was how responsible adults behaved. Instead, he said, “of course not. Whatever you say to Hyle is entirely your business.”

“Okay,” she replied, a little smile on her face. “Do you need me to drive you anywhere? I need to be at the shop soon, but I think I have time.”

That he was now in a place with Brienne where she would voluntarily offer him a lift to work lifted his spirits in a way nothing had in years, but even so he gave her a smile and said, “don’t worry about me. I don’t want to make you late. I have to pick up some things from my flat anyway.”

“As long as you’re sure.”

“Positive,” he smiled.

After a few more minutes of shuffling around (and Brienne bending down to tie his shoelaces), Jaime was ready to go and was walking towards the front door, with her following closely behind.

“Bye Brienne,” he said as he crossed over the threshold.

He expected her to parrot a goodbye back to him, but instead she grasped his arm and said, “I know you said you don’t want me to thank you, but I need to for the way I behaved last night. _Thank you, _Jaime. You didn’t have to be so kind.”

Jaime thought that, even though she was the only woman he had ever loved, he could never truly understand Brienne. He had done something so monstrous to her, something so monumentally unforgivable, and yet here she was thanking him for being kind. She had always been far too good for him.

“You deserve all the kindness, wench,” he said gently. “Please don’t thank me for just being halfway decent for once in my life.”

Brienne’s expression was one trapped between confusion and affection as he walked away from her, up the garden path and towards the rest of his day. When he reached the gate, she called to him again.

“It’s my birthday in two weeks.”

Jaime knew that, as he had been wondering what to get her. Everything he thought of just seemed inappropriate in a different way. “I know.”

She blushed slightly as she said, “Hyle’s organising a party for me and I was just wondering if you wanted to come? I would… Gal would be really appreciative if you were there.”

_Brienne’s birthday, _he thought, _I’ve been barred from those celebrations ever since I was the world’s worst fiancé._

“I’d love to come. Just let me know when and where.”

She smiled at him and it was one of such genuine gratitude that Jaime thought he would melt. “Great, I will do.”

After that, they really did say their goodbyes, and even though it had just started raining, for Jaime, the sun was shining.

* * *

Jaime just managed to make it to the Citizen’s Advice Bureau for nine, wearing the only suit he had. Davos was waiting with a clipboard and pen outside one of the interview rooms with a serious expression on his face. “Her name’s Pia,” he began, “and she says she has been a victim of domestic abuse at the hands of her husband. She wants access to Legal Aid, but there are problems with her accounts as they’re shared with her husband.”

“Thanks Davos,” Jaime said, taking the clipboard and pen off him. “I’ll try my best.”

“That’s all you can do, son,” replied Davos wisely, before going back up the corridor to talk to another caseworker. He was a very busy man after all.

Jaime tried to stop his heart hammering as he shuffled into the little room. Since being debarred, he had not kept up with the changes in law, and although the two weeks training Davos had given him had reacquainted him with the most likely legislation he would come up against, he still felt slightly like a baby giraffe trying to get used to its legs. All his trepidation washed away, however, when he saw the woman sat in front of him. Pia looked haggard and drawn, worry lines permanently etched into her pale skin. Jaime could tell that once she had been beautiful, but over time had been worn down by whatever worries the world had piled on her.

_Just do my best, _he told himself, thinking of what Davos had just told him. _That’s all I can do._

“Hello Pia,” he said gently, “my name is Jaime Lannister, and I’ll be your caseworker this morning.”

She nodded, seemingly not quite prepared to give him a vocal acknowledgement of his entry into the room. Sitting down in front of her, Jaime turned on the computer before looking at her, and then said to her, “so, why are you here today?”

Pia looked at him with eyes that seemed to be so far away as she opened her mouth to speak. It was only then he noticed her shattered teeth.

“I need help getting access to Legal Aid…”

Jaime sat in silence as Pia told him her story. Her husband, Gregor Clegane, was a high-flying city banker who had a reputation for being a bit of a psychopath. In truth, Jaime vaguely recognised the name; he thought that the man had been one of the terrifying heavies his father had used to employ. Pia described how Gregor had taken to drinking, and then to hitting her. When he had smashed her teeth in for speaking when he wanted silence, Pia had managed to get away to her sister’s house.

“My sister Beth reported him to the police, and they’re now waiting to try him, but how can I stand up in court and face him when I don’t even have a lawyer? Beth tried to get in touch with Legal Aid for me, but they said I’m a wealthy person and I should fund myself, but I’m _not _wealthy. All my accounts are shared with Gregor, and he has frozen me out of them via some jiggery-pokery at the bank. What am I meant to do?”

By the time her story ended, Pia was sobbing, and Jaime could do nothing but stretch out his hand towards her and place it on top of her own. She evidently found it comforting, as she did not push him away. When he had entered the room, Jaime had been worried that he would not be prepared to help whatever poor soul ended up in front of him, but now he had a crying Pia here he knew what to do at once.

“There are three things I can do,” he said, loading up the computer preparing to type in his recommendations. “Firstly, I’m going to put you in contact with a Women’s Aid charity. Although I’m sure your sister is doing her best, but they are the true experts. They can get you psychological help, medical help, anything you need. Secondly, I will refer your case to our financial department. They will be able to work out what is going on at your bank and hopefully get you access to your accounts once more. Finally, I’m going to find you a decent lawyer. Whether or not they are funded by Legal Aid or not, it is vital that we get them in place in time for your scumbag of a husband’s trial.”

Pia’s eyes widened. “Scumbag? I didn’t think you would be allowed to call him that.”

Jaime looked at her. “Have you got another word for him?”

“No,” said Pia, the corners of her mouth turning up in a smile. “Scumbag is pretty perfect.”

Although he knew it was going above and beyond what Davos asked of him, on his way from the Citizens Advice Bureau to Ellaria’s shop for his second shift of the day, Jaime could not help but go through all his old contacts to try and find someone who would represent Pia. There was something about her that had affected him deeply; he didn’t know whether it was her pained eyes, or the hidden ferocity, or that her outward gentleness reminded him of Brienne. Either way, Jaime knew he had to help her. On the bus, he searched through his old contacts on his phone, and eventually located the man he wanted: Josmyn Peckledon. He had been a young trainee at the time Jaime was practising _pro bono, _but by now he had gained a reputation as a touch criminal prosecutor. Jaime knew his favourite type of client; he wouldn’t be able to resist Pia. His suspicion was right; by the time he got to Ellaria’s, Jaime had managed to talk Peck into taking Pia on and was emailing the details to Davos so he could get it uploaded to the system.

Even though he needed his umbrella when he got off the bus, the sun had gotten brighter.

* * *

After work, Jaime went home, stood on the driveway, and shouted up to Margaery’s flat. He got her attention quickly.

“What do you want?” she snapped, leaning out of her bedroom window.

“In a week, I’ll have your money,” he said. “Do you want it in cash or by bank transfer?”

Margaery’s mouth dropped open. “Are you being serious?”

“Yes,” he replied.

She looked at him sceptically. “I’ll believe it when I see it… and I want it by bank transfer.”

Even though the clouds were grey, Jaime was sure he could see light reflecting off the window as Margaery closed it.

* * *

“Come on,” said Bronn coaxingly when they were both sitting in a both in _The Twin Swords _later that evening, “I want to get you a beer. You deserve it after all this training you’ve been doing.”

“I didn’t go to training this morning,” smiled Jaime, “I got several expletive ridden texts from Loras confirming it.”

Bronn chuckled. “Well, you still deserve a beer.”

“Nah,” replied Jaime. “I drank too much last night. I don’t want to derail all my hard work.”

“I thought you went to Gal’s Parents Evening?” asked Bronn, confused. “I didn’t realise that was a natural place for a piss up.”

“I didn’t drink at Gal’s school,” said Jaime, rolling his eyes. “I went back to Brienne’s, had a couple of Scorpions, and we _talked.”_

“Scorpions?” Bronn spluttered. “Are you eighteen? That crap is toxic waste in a glass.”

“Yeah, but pretty useful for loosening lips.”

And then Jaime just couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. He poured out every single thing that had happened the previous evening and that morning between him and Brienne; the kiss, her anger, her eyes, her words, and the looming unsaid. _And yet we can’t stop loving each other. _To Jaime, the possibility that Brienne was still in love with him was so earth-shattering that he didn’t want to accept it was reality until another fully sane human being had interpreted her actions the way he had.

Not that Bronn was a fully sane human being, mind.

When Jaime finished his story, he said excitedly, “so, what do you think?”

Bronn let out a whistle between his teeth. “Well, that’s a lot of drama.”

"Yeah… and? Do you think she’s in love with me?” Jaime wanted nothing more than for Bronn to confirm it all; Brienne was still in love with him, and it was only a matter of time.

Bronn shrugged. “I don’t know. What she said _might _in imply that she is, but she could just mean she loves you, in the way she'd love an old friend, not that she’s _in _love with you like she wants to write love songs about you. At the same time, let’s say for a moment that she does love you. What does that matter? She’s still with Hyle…”

“But I could persuade her he’s wrong for her,” said Jaime passionately. “I know he is.”

“And? She could still stay with him; lots of people stay with shitty partners for lots of reasons.”

Jaime couldn’t help but think of Pia and her smashed up teeth at that.

“But what if she doesn’t stay with Hyle,” said Jaime, jumping on the hypothetical. “What then? I could still have a chance.”

“Yes,” conceded Bronn, “but just because she loves you it doesn’t mean she has forgiven you. It could be one of those _can’t live with you, can’t live without you _things.”

Jaime had been so buoyant all day that it felt almost strange to suddenly feel his heart fall at Bronn’s words. He opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds, trying to find something to say, but the moment passed when a shout ripped through the pub.

“Hey, back off!" Both Bronn and Jaime recognise who had spoken in an instant; Loras Tyrell was standing over in the far corner of the pub with the Bitch Posse, Renly and Sansa. His expression was one of utmost fury, but his face became suddenly obscured from Jaime by the crowd of thugs who were slowly encircling them.

“Shut up, you faggot!” shouted one of the men, who Jaime instantly recognised as a particularly vile slug called Vargo Hoat, who had had some run ins with Euron Greyjoy in the past. “If I want to touch this ginger bitch’s arse, I _will.”_

Buoyed up on a day of feeling better about himself, the world, and the entire human race, Jaime Lannister felt indestructible. Getting to his feet, he was over the other side of the pub along with Loras, Renly, and Sansa in a flash. Hearing a groan behind him, Jaime realised that Bronn had followed him straight into the bear pit. Vargo Hoat, a tall, gaunt man with a black goatee, was only a big man because he was surrounded by lackies, who huddled around him like vultures. “What the fuck do you want?” Vargo hissed, his lisp making a coating of spit varnish his lips.

“I want you to listen to Loras. Back off. Sansa wants you to fuck off.” Jaime had no idea where the bravery was coming from, but he didn’t particularly care, because Renly and Sansa were looking at him as if they had never seen him before in their entire lives.

The big grunt standing beside Vargo that Jaime knew was called Zollo let out a mirthless chuckle. “And what are you going to do about it, you golden haired prick?”

“I’m… I’m…” As he scrambled around for an answer, Jaime came to the realisation that he did not have a plan at all. “I’m going to ring the police.”

Vargo began to laugh and his heavies instantly joined in to copy. “Oh ho!” the man giggled, unpleasant and vaguely threatening all at once. “I’m _so _scared.”

“You should be,” said Jaime, trying to keep his voice level even as he was getting increasingly nervous.

“And why’s that?”

It was out of his mouth before he had time to reconsider. “Because we don’t put up with nasty cunts like you here.”

Vargo's fist put an end to any and all of Jaime's foolhardy bravery; after all, it was all he could do to stop him pummelling his lights out. As tables were overturned and Renly was rugby tackled to the ground by Zollo, Shae the barmaid started screaming and did what Jaime had promised to do; she called the police. The bobbies came in armed with arrest warrants and cudgels to calm the whole thing down, and Jaime only escaped with a few bruises and a caution because Loras, Renly, and Sansa all vehemently claimed he had been defending them. Once the police were gone, Jaime turned to the three of them, trying to find something to say.

“Why the hell did you defend us?” asked Renly. “You only care about yourself.”

Jaime tried not to feel deflated by that comment, so said, “you are determined to think the worst of me, aren’t you?”

Sansa spoke next. “You are determined to think the worst of _yourself_.”

Not able to put up with the tension anymore, Jaime turned to go, but he did not succeed because he was stopped by Renly. “I didn’t mean to sound rude. I’m just surprised. Thank you for stepping in, Jaime.”

Amazed by Renly’s reaction, Jaime tried to find the words. “It’s the least I could do. Especially as I’ve been such an arsehole to you in the past.” Renly really did look shocked by that and, enjoying the effect, Jaime decided not to stop there. “Which I’m sorry for, by the way. I was a corrupt, jaded loser back then who did anything for a quick buck. I’m sorry you had to put up with my appalling behaviour.”

Renly and Sansa exchanged an uneasy look, but Loras put a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder and smiled at him. It spurred Renly into speaking. “Well, it was nine years ago… it’s been a long time.” Nodding, as if he was accepting something about himself and about Jaime all at once, Renly said, “it’s water under the bridge now. I accept your apology.”

After Renly’s forgiveness, Jaime could not bemoan the fact his day concluded with a bar fight and a bruise on his cheek. In fact, nothing could ruin his day full of sunshine, because he knew in his heart of hearts that Brienne still couldn’t stop loving him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! It's been really fun writing happy Jaime, so let me know what you think in a lovely comment.
> 
> Next chapter... it's Brienne's birthday, and Jaime finally decides it is time to attempt to explain what happened six years ago...


	14. The Birthday Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Brienne's birthday, and Jaime and Brienne have a conversation they should have had six years ago...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Welcome back to the next chapter! This is a big one, so I hope you enjoy and please leave comments and kudos!

Two weeks of hard training later, Jaime noticed he was not only getting fitter, but had also lost the comfort layer of weight he had been cultivating while in his six-year long depressive funk. Loras commented on it after their last training session before Brienne’s birthday party.

“You are actually starting to look like that bloke she fell for. It might make Brienne think twice,” he said as they walked back across the park.

Jaime narrowed his eyes. “About what?”

“Her romantic choices,” he replied cryptically.

Jaime stewed on that phrase for the rest of the day and again when he got up on Saturday morning. In truth, the few times he had brought up Hyle in front of his third trainer, Loras had wrinkled his nose and looked faintly repelled. Jaime wondered whether this was the reaction of the entire Bitch Posse. It would be helpful if it was; in the early months of his and Brienne’s relationship, their hostility had almost succeeded in putting the brakes on the whole thing entirely.

The thought that Hyle was causing disquiet in Brienne’s inner circle made Jaime even more buoyant than he had been since Gal’s parents evening, so much so that he wasn’t too anxious over his choice of birthday present for her. Indeed, the bigger problem arrived when he went to wrap it two hours before the party and he discovered the only wrapping paper he had was covered in reindeer. Biting his lip, he worried that he would appear incredibly silly if he turned up at Brienne’s birthday party armed with a present that looked like he had forgotten to give it to her at Christmas.

_Calm down, _he told himself as he wrapped it up, _it’s the thought that counts._

Once that was done, he went to his wardrobe and began to search for something – anything – that was appropriate to wear to a swanky party. Jaime had been hoping she might have just hired out the events room at _The Twin Swords _and had a buffet and slapped on some cheesy 80s music, but it had seemed that Hyle had other ideas. Using his business connections, he had hired the penthouse events room at some luxury skyscraper along the river and, from one look at the invite Brienne had posted him, Jaime could already tell it would be packed with stuffy business contacts, people Brienne didn’t really know, and canapes.

_It’s like he doesn’t know her at all, _thought Jaime hopefully.

Even so, it made Jaime’s wardrobe choice difficult. Given that most of his clothes were designed for mooching around in his pants, he did not have a great deal to choose from, and eventually settled on a pair of jeans and a clean shirt, coupled with the suit jacket he normally wore for work. It was a bit patchy, but he didn’t really have anything else.

_And what does it matter? It’s changing inside that counts._

About an hour before he was meant to leave, Jaime was styling his hair and trying to pick a good cologne, when there was a knock on the door. “Coming,” he called, taking a quick look in the mirror before going in the direction of the sound. Unlocking the door, he nearly fell over in shock at who was waiting on the threshold.

Two of his three coaches – Loras and Bronn – were standing there, suited and booted for Brienne’s party, but they were also joined by Renly and Sansa, who Jaime hadn’t seen since the incident at _The Two Swords._

“Oh,” he said confusedly, “hi.”

“Hi,” grinned Bronn, “we’re coming in.”

Jaime couldn’t have stopped them if he wanted to, and in two seconds all four of them had bundled into his little flat. Although Bronn had seen the squalor that Jaime lived in before, Loras, Renly, and Sansa were all looking round curiously. Noting their expressions, Jaime was at least thankful that he had had the sense of mind to have a spring clean earlier in the week.

It was Renly who spoke first. “You have lots of photos of her… Brienne, I mean.”

Jaime couldn’t deny it; his walls were covered in her. Even so, at the accidental exposure of his feelings, Jaime felt himself blushing. “Well, of course.”

“Of course?” Renly replied, a little confused. “I would have thought someone who left their fiancée two days before their wedding wouldn’t still have loads of photos of her six years later.”

Jaime tried to sound non-committal, but his voice cracked. “Biggest mistake of my fucking life, wasn’t it?”

“Was it?” asked Sansa gently. “I’ve only ever heard you defend your decision to the hilt.”

Jaime sighed; this must have been one of the many times he had complained that six years was a long time ago, that it wasn’t _that _big a deal. In response to Sansa’s accusation, Jaime tried shrugging as a way of shucking off all the pain he suddenly felt piling down on top of him again. “Self-preservation, what can I say?”

There was a silence for a few moments as Sansa, Renly, and Loras exchanged glances. Then Sansa spoke. “You should probably tell her.”

“What?” asked Jaime, swallowing heavily.

“That it was the biggest mistake of your life,” Sansa continued. “She thinks you just did it because you woke up and realised you couldn’t bear to spend the rest of your life with a big ugly beast like her… her words, not mine.”

It was as if Sansa had just hit him with a sledgehammer carved out of the weight of Brienne’s feelings. “When did she say that?” he asked, desperately hoping it wasn’t recently.

Sansa shrugged. “She’s said it lots of times.”

Jaime took a deep breath, trying to stop the lump rising in his throat. “She’s not a beast…” he said delicately, careful not to speak too loudly unless he dislodged his own feelings. “How could she believe I think that of her? She’s beautiful. She’s wonderful. She was my saviour, she made me better person… she was the only light in my life.”

Once again Renly and Sansa shot a glance at one another. “Well, why did you do it, then?” asked Renly.

Jaime looked between the four of them – Bronn and Loras who had stayed on the side lines, and Renly and Sansa who wore expressions that wouldn’t have been unfamiliar on the faces of medieval inquisitors – and decided he didn’t really want to talk about him and Brienne with them anymore.

“Why are you here?” he asked them all suddenly, changing the topic, “we’re all expected at Brienne’s party soon.”

The tension softened slightly as Loras produced a box from behind his back, accompanied by Sansa’s smile. “We all cobbled together to get you a little something to say thank you for the other night at the pub. We hope you like it.”

Jaime looked between them, suddenly tentative. “You shouldn’t have.”

“We wanted to,” said Renly. “Building bridges and all that.”

Knowing it would be very rude to reject their offer, Jaime took the box off Loras, nodding his thanks to each of them in turn. When the room descended into silence once more, Loras broke the tension again, commanding, “open it.”

Putting it on the bed, Jaime had some difficulty in unwrapping it with his one hand, but eventually Bronn came over and helped him, so before long Jaime could see what they had bought him. It was the most beautiful maroon suit jacket, complete with cufflinks. Jaime had to struggle to hold back tears. “Thank you,” he stammered, turning to look at the Bitch Posse, who up to that very moment he thought hated him.

“I hope you don’t think us too presumptuous,” said Renly, “but we thought you might want to wear it tonight. Hyle’s made sure this whole thing is as pretentious as possible, so we thought it you might not have something appropriate.”

“And you’ve got to go to this party looking like Jaime fucking Lannister,” said Sansa, her voice firm.

Jaime was confused. “I don’t even understand what that means.”

Sansa grinned mischievously. “If you rock up at that party looking like that no-good bad boy scoundrel that Brienne used to go gaga over, Hyle will be hella pissed, and that’s all good for the rest of us.”

Loras’ earlier comment about Brienne re-evaluating her romantic choices came to the forefront of Jaime’s mind. “Why is it good for you?”

Their expressions turned dark as one, as Sansa said, “Brienne’s not quite _herself _round Hyle. He’s this big shot director of _Quiet Isle _and so she thinks she should be playing this High Society hostess all the time – all yes Hyle, no Hyle, three bags full Hyle. I told her that she shouldn’t make herself into something she isn’t for some bloke – she never has before – but then she came back at me with _if I don’t change, I’ll be alone for the rest of my life, and I can’t stand the loneliness a minute more. _I said to her that was crap, that she is perfect as she is, but she wasn’t having any of it. And then she went and told Hyle what I said, and he has decided that Renly and I are trying to turn her against him, so he thinks that Brienne should be spending less time with us.”

Jaime shook his head. “That guy is such a paranoid bastard.”

“_I know,_” said Sansa, Renly, and Loras in unison, which made everyone in the room laugh.

“That’s why you need to remind her that there is still a whole world out there,” said Sansa, “and Hyle is not the be all and end of all of mankind.”

Jaime nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

* * *

Wearing his new suit jacket with a splash of confidence, Jaime entered the events room in the riverside skyscraper where Brienne’s birthday party was being held. Immediately he could tell that Renly was right; the whole thing was terribly pretentious, as all the waiters and waitresses were in stylised little penguin suits, and there were several people Jaime spotted who he thought were more likely to be trustees of _Quiet Isle _than Brienne’s friends.

On arrival, the small group who had come to visit him at his flat broke up, and Jaime found himself with Bronn and Renly in the corner of the room, trying some odd looking canapes.

“Is it fish?” asked Bronn. “Or chicken? I can’t decide.”

“I have no idea,” said Jaime, taking a bite, tasting nothing but the totally overwhelming sauce.

“Maybe it’s pork,” suggested Renly, and they kept discussing the mystery for a good ten minutes.

While Bronn was soliloquising on the exact consistency of a nice tender piece of lamb, Jaime noticed Brienne and Hyle enter the room; not that he paid much attention to Hyle, mind, because Brienne was outshining every star in the night’s sky. She wore a long navy blue dress that fell to the floor, which just emphasised the length of the kissable legs that were hidden under the fabric. The dress was held up with thin straps, revealing the broad plane of her décolletage and the strength of her shoulders. He felt his mouth go a little dry, because he had just started imagining kissing her freckles.

Then, Jaime heard Bronn’s voice as if from a distance, “… what do you think?”

He snapped his head back, “sorry, about what?”

It was only then that Bronn noticed what Jaime was looking at and smirked. “Oh, your lady love is here, I see.”

“Shut up,” muttered Jaime, trying to keep the blush from colouring his cheeks. It was so long since he had seen Brienne wear something really knockout, that he wasn’t sure how he would react if she came over.

Renly then copied Jaime and Bronn and followed their line of sight. “Hyle’s wearing _Armani,_” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing to say even though Brienne had just strutted in looking like the goddess of all things wonderful, beautiful, and holy.

“Well he would, wouldn’t he,” said Jaime darkly. “He wants to play the perfect boyfriend, straight out of a catalogue.”

“I ordered a pair of shoes from a catalogue once,” mused Renly. “Gorgeous soft leather Italian loafers. They looked amazing, but then they arrived, and I put them on… and they hurt like fuck.”

The three men continued to take surreptitious glances at the newly arrived pair as they made their way round the room, saying hello to Brienne’s friends as well as the people Hyle had invited just to bolster numbers. Eventually, Brienne and Hyle had completed enough of the circuit to be right in front of them. If Jaime had thought Brienne looked stunning standing over the other side of the room, with her this close he thought the best course of action was to get on the floor and worship her as the goddess she was.

“Hello Renly, Bronn… Jaime,” she said when she drew near, her eyes dropping to the floor as she said his name.

_God, I love you Brienne, _he thought, as her cheeks went a rosy pink. _You are so beautiful._

Even though his brain could compose poetry, his mouth was drunk. In fact, “god… Brienne… wow… hi… um… you look… well… um… _wow,_” was the highly embarrassing but very accurate descriptor of his feelings towards her in _that dress _that Jaime eventually managed to come up with. At his awkward stammering, Brienne finally looked up from the floor and gazed into his eyes. The rosy pink had become red.

The moment that passed between them was shattered, however, when Hyle spoke. “I know right? Never mind all this…” he said, signalling to the spectacular sights of the city visible out of the windows, “I’ll take the view I have right here.” Lifting his hand, he cupped Brienne’s chin and turned her face towards him, before planting an egregious kiss on her lips. When it went on too long, Bronn and Renly started smirking at each other, while Jaime became possessed with the desire to take his prosthetic hand and beat Hyle round the head with it.

Eventually, Brienne had the good sense to break the kiss and, planting one hand on Hyle’s chest, she gently pushed him away. Turning back to the three men, she said, “Hyle, you know Renly and Jaime, but I don’t think you’ve met Bronn before, have you? We’re old friends.”

Even though Jaime, Bronn, and Hyle knew full well they had, Hyle had the temerity to say, “no I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.” He held out his hand for Bronn to shake, while the latter just raised his eyebrows.

“You sure?” he asked, “you look somewhat… _familiar._”

Hyle’s expression darkened. “No. I never forget a face.”

The tension was only wallpapered over once Brienne changed the subject. “It’s good to see you all.”

“Yeah, you too,” replied Jaime, silently kicking himself that the truth about Hyle, Bronn, and _The War of the Five Kings _tickets hadn’t come out naturally. “Where’s Gal?”

Brienne bit her lip. “Oh, Hyle thought it was better if we got a sitter.”

“Really?” said Jaime, furrowing his brow. “Gal would love all this, though, wouldn’t he? I mean, look at that view of the city.”

Brienne went to reply, but Hyle cut across her. “It’s going to be a late night, and it’s unfair on him to keep him up past his bedtime.” Blushing slightly at Hyle’s forthright tone, Brienne looked down at her feet once more.

_Why doesn’t she fight back? _thought Jaime. _Is she really that scared of a life alone?_

Sensing the newly resurfaced tension, Renly said, “I really need the gents. Do you know where they are?”

“Oooh, me too,” agreed Bronn. “I drunk too much complimentary vino.”

Brienne gave Renly a grateful smile. “Yes. They’re just over this way. I can show you if you want.” She turned to Hyle and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Stay and talk to Jaime, why don’t you? It would be nice if you could get to know each other a little.”

After giving Jaime a nod, she signalled to Renly and Bronn and the two of them followed her across the room, leaving her boyfriend and her ex-fiancé alone for the first time since the cab ride back from the police station on the night of _The War of the Five Kings._

“Great view isn’t it?” said Jaime mildly, turning away from Hyle to look out the window. He didn’t know if he could put up with his stupid face anymore.

“Yeah, breath taking,” Hyle agreed. “You know, that is my favourite sight in the whole world.”

“What?” asked Jaime, turning around to look at the misty-eyed expression on Hyle’s face.

Hyle lifted his hand and pointed out the window. “There. St Paul’s Cathedral.” Jaime didn’t need to look back out of the window to see the huge white dome that dominated the imagined picture of London. “Do you know why?”

Jaime nodded. “Could it possibly be that it is the finishing line of the Riverrun River Run?”

“Correct,” smiled Hyle. “Only three more weeks and I get to cross it. I can’t wait.”

Jaime finally looked out the window and for the first time actually imagined what it would be like to finish a marathon. He could see it now; Bronn, Olenna, and Loras would all be there to cheer him on.

_And maybe, _he dreamed, _Brienne and Gal._

“Me too,” said Jaime gently, trying not to become wistful at the idea of a Brienne who was _proud_of him.

“Greatest feeling in the world, finishing a distance race,” continued Hyle. “I really think you’re going to get a kick out of it.”

Surprised, Jaime turned back to look at Hyle, only to find that he was smirking, on the cusp of a laugh. “You don’t believe I’m going to finish, do you?” asked Jaime, realisation dawning.

Hyle shook his head. “No. No I don’t.”

“Why?”

Hyle’s lips quirked as he snorted. “Because it’s really hard, Jaime, and you need a couple of things you don’t seem to possess.”

Jaime could feel himself getting irritated. “My running shoes may be cheap, but they’re perfectly serviceable, thanks very much.”

Hyle rolled his eyes. “I’m not talking about _running shoes. _I’m talking about discipline and perseverance, strength and fortitude. While you can insist all you want to Brienne that you are going to _prove _things by running this marathon, in truth, in every single race – could be the tenth mile, or the twentieth – every runner hits the Wall.”

Jaime suddenly felt very nervous about running for the first time. “What’s the Wall?”

“It’s the word runners use to describe the worst moment of the race,” said Hyle, suddenly looming over Jaime. “It’s that moment when you feel like you have pushed your body as far as it can possibly go. You won’t be able to move, or breathe, or even think of anything but how much you _hurt. _And when _you _hit the Wall, Jaime, you will discover what kind of man you are, the kind of man I’ve marked you as from the moment I met you.”

“And what kind of man is that?” growled Jaime, desperately trying to defend himself, even as the prospect of running became more and more terrifying.

Hyle let out a little hiss of laughter. “The kind of man who gives up the first second he feels weak, or tired, or scared. The kind of man who disappoints people over and over again and can never keep his promises, not to his fiancée, or his son, or even to himself.” Hyle’s amusement transformed into a mocking grimace. “And that’s the difference between you and me, Jaime; I conquered Brienne, while you were too weak to climb that mountain.”

Although Jaime had been irritated at Hyle’s suggestion that he wouldn’t finish the race, at the mention of Brienne as something to be subjugated – like she was some fertile tract of land – Jaime saw red. “She’s not something to be conquered,” he spat, “she’s a _person _with her own mind and her own soul. You are supposed to be her boyfriend; you should treat her with respect. She deserves respect.”

_And love, kindness, and devotion, _he thought, impassioned.

“Oh, I do respect her,” Hyle smirked. “Especially when I’m fucking her up the arse.”

He did not know whether Hyle was telling the truth or lying to wind him up, but either way Jaime didn’t care. No one talked about Brienne like that, not on his watch. Puffing himself up, he took a step towards Hyle, fury in his eyes. “You fucking bastard.”

“What you going to do, Jaime?” Hyle sneered. “Hit me? Everyone will just recognise you as the jealous, pathetic ex I know you are.”

“If you hurt her…” growled Jaime.

“You’ll what?” he laughed. “We both know I can run rings around you. Working in the City I’d heard about the legend that was Tywin Lannister; he must be gnashing his teeth in that prison cell of his about what a disappointment his son and heir is.”

“I don’t give a fuck about what you say about me,” snarled Jaime, “but if you disrespect her for one single second, I will make you wish you had never been born.”

“Oh I’m _so _scared,” snorted Hyle, putting a fake quivering vibrato in his voice. At that point, a man who Jaime clocked as one of Hyle’s business associates called out to him, and Brienne’s boyfriend turned to wave. “It’s been so nice to get to know you, Jaime. We should do it again sometime.”

As Hyle walked away, it took every bit of Jaime’s resolve not to march after him and punch all his teeth out.

* * *

Still fuming over Hyle, Jaime spent the next several hours drifting between Bronn, Renly, Loras, and Sansa, filling the time with empty conversations while trying to ignore the sight of Brienne hanging off Hyle’s arm. Even though it was her birthday, Hyle seemed content to bray like a horse with his stupid business associates, while Brienne stood beside him, looking so beautiful and so sad. Jaime wanted nothing more than to go and talk to her, but he knew it would only be awkward when she seemed so unwilling to leave Hyle’s side.

Consequently, when Brienne finally gave Hyle a peck on the cheek and made her way out to the small balcony adjacent to the main room, Jaime followed her before he could think of an adequate excuse as to why he was doing so. By the time he caught up with her, she was propping herself up on the railing, looking out at the night-time skyline of the City. Her blonde hair and her dress were both gently blowing in the breeze, and her eyes were catching the moonlight.

To him, Brienne always looked like an angel.

Sensing his presence, she turned to look at him. “Oh, hi Jaime.”

“Hello wench,” he said, not able to stop his affection coming across in his tone. “Are you having a good time?”

“Yeah,” she said unconvincingly, before turning back to look at the view. Unable to stop himself, Jaime walked towards her, only halting when he was beside her, his hand resting next to hers on the railing.

“Gal would love this, wouldn’t he?” Jaime whispered. “The view of the river is just magical. He’d be up here telling us all about the different reptiles and amphibians he imagines live in there, along with all the mermaids and dragons.”

At the evocation of their son, Brienne smiled. “He would. You know I’ve just got him a book on tree frogs? They’re his new passion.”

Jaime laughed. “Bethany Beesbury’s influence no doubt.” They settled into an amused silence for a moment, both enjoying the adorableness of their son’s childish crush. It was at the thought of Gal’s happy face that Jaime realised there was something he had to say to Brienne that he should have said six years ago. “I never thanked you.”

“What for?” she asked.

“For letting me back into your life after… what I did.”

Brienne looked momentarily pained. “_Gal’s _life,” she corrected.

Although he understood that to be an attempt to push him away, Jaime continued, “well… you know what I mean. After what I did, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you cut me off entirely.”

“Now you tell me,” she joked gently, looking him straight in the eye.

Jaime didn’t know what to do with that, so he just started stammering, “well… you know… I…”

“Don’t worry,” she said softly. “Gal needs his dad. And he’s very excited about the thought of you running a marathon.”

“Is he?”

“Yeah,” smiled Brienne. “He’s convinced you are going to beat all the professionals who have been running since they were in the womb.”

Jaime let out a breath of laughter. “I’d hate to disappoint, so please tell him that winning is not the reason I’m entering.”

“No?” she teased. “What is it then?”

Jaime pivoted his body so he could face her. “You.”

The blush came back to her cheeks. “Jaime…”

“I decided to do it because I thought I could prove to you that I have changed, that I could win you back,” he began, the words tumbling out of his mouth. “When I first started, I thought that if you saw me doing something as amazing as this, it might make you look at me how you used to.”

Brienne drew her arms around herself. “Jaime, please…"

“No,” he said, suddenly impassioned, “I can’t go another six years without saying it.”

At the mention of _six years _she seized up, even as she started speaking. “Saying what?”

“When I started this training, I thought all I wanted was to get you back, but the truth is what I want most in the world is your _respect._” He took a deep breath, trying to shield himself from the emotion roused by her shocked expression. “You are the best person I have ever known, Brienne. When I was a corrupt piece of shit, you were the light that I followed out of the darkness. You were the only person who ever thought I was worthy, that I should have standards, and you held me to them continuously and without complaint. I know I disappointed you that day…”

“Disappointed?” she spluttered, her cheeks red and her eyes bright. “Disappointed? I think the phrase you are looking for is _broke my heart in two. _You had just been inside me and told me you loved me, and then I woke up to find you gone. You made me feel like I was the lowest of the low, like I was dirt on your shoe, because you didn’t even care enough to say goodbye.”

As Jaime looked into her eyes which were glistening with unshed tears, and for the first time in six years he felt the full, awful weight of what he had done to her. “Brienne, it wasn’t because I didn’t love you,” he said, his voice catching in his throat. “You were my world, my everything. I did a stupid thing, a _cruel _thing, but never for a moment think it was because I didn’t love you.”

That pushed her over the edge.

“Then why, Jaime?” Brienne cried, the volume rising with every word. “Why? In six fucking years you’ve never told me _why_.”

Seeing her anger and pain, he knew he could not hold back anymore, and it came out in a torrent. “Because I woke up to my sister’s answer phone message and in a moment of madness, I thought I could never change, that I could never be better, that I would always be that unworthy bastard you first met at Renly’s trial. In my weakness, I panicked and ran, because I figured that ruining your day was better than ruining the rest of your life.”

He tried to catch his breath, tried to temper the tone of his voice, but the truth was too busy pouring out. “And although I’ve regretted it every single day since – I’ve woken up every morning aching for your touch, dreaming of being with you again, of being inside you again, of living with you and having a family with you and growing old and dying with you – the truth is I’m still scared that I’ll never be worthy of you, because you are just so damn _good.”_

Brienne’s mouth had dropped open, but all evidence of her pain that had enlivened her features just a few seconds before was now wiped from her face. He closed his eyes, not brave enough to look at her, but then he snapped them open once more when he felt her warm hand on his cheek, and her body inches away.

“Oh, Jaime,” she whispered, her voice cracking at the realisation of what had really happened six years ago. “You are such an idiot.”

Jaime could not help but give her a little smile, “I know, wench, but I…”

“Brienne?”

Brienne jumped away when she heard the voice, and Jaime turned to see Sansa standing at the door, looking at the both of them incredulously. Brienne backed away from him, straightened her dress, and rearranged her expression into something that approached cheer. “Yes, Sansa?”

Sansa narrowed her eyes. “Hyle wants you. It’s time for the cake.”

“Oh, of course, I’m ready now,” she said, shaking herself back to sensibleness. Turning back to Jaime, she looked at him as if that monumental conversation had not just passed between them. “Are you coming? The cake will be cut immediately after.”

Jaime nodded, not being able to offer her any more words, at which point Brienne swept past Sansa and went back into the main room, determinedly not looking at him. He went to follow her, but Sansa stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“What were you talking about?” she asked, her voice hushed.

He couldn’t help but smile. “We had the conversation we should have had six years ago.”

* * *

Jaime had to admit, Brienne put on a very good show. As the triple-tiered birthday cake topped with candles came out, she smiled enthusiastically and pecked Hyle on both cheeks, then pretended to conduct as everyone sang her _Happy Birthday_. Once the warbling ended, Brienne turned to make her way back into the crowd, but Hyle held her back by pulling her close to his side.

_Bastard, _Jaime thought.

“Can I have everyone’s attention for a few moments longer?” he asked, raising his voice. The crowd hushed once more, turning to look at Hyle. Clearly Brienne did not know what was going on, as she just seemed confused. To soothe her, Hyle gave her a broad grin before speaking again. “As you all know, we are all here to wish Brienne Tarth a very happy birthday.” The crowd cheered. “But that’s not the only thing I’m celebrating. In three weeks today, I will be crossing the finish line at St Paul’s Cathedral, having completed the Riverrun River Run.”

_Not unless you run headfirst into the Wall, you twat, _thought Jaime nastily.

“As a successful runner,” continued Hyle, shooting a brief look at Jaime, “there are lots of qualities you must possess, which are the same things you need to have success in love. Passion. Determination… and something I’ve needed a lot of with Brienne… stamina.”

The crowd and Brienne laughed, even as Jaime muttered, “well that’s just inappropriate.”

“These are not just qualities that I possess in abundance,” said Hyle smugly, “but Brienne does to, and for that reason alone, I know I can never let her go. She is my reflection, my soulmate, the other half to my whole.”

At Hyle’s words, Jaime’s stomach began to tie itself in knots. Brienne seemed to sense something in the air too as her smile dimmed and her eyes went wide.

_No… no… no…_

“Brienne,” crooned Hyle, getting down on one knee. “I know it’s your birthday, but I can’t keep quiet for another second. You make me the happiest man in the world, so will you do me the honour of being my wife?” When Hyle opened the little black box, Jaime was momentarily blinded by huge hen’s egg of a diamond inside. Brienne seemingly was too, as it seemed all she could do was stare at the jewel, as if she couldn’t believe what was happening to her.

_Look at me, wench, _thought Jaime desperately. _L__ook at me for one moment just to let me know that you think this is crazy too… that you don’t love him… that you could never love him… that you love me as much as I love you… that you…_

“Yes,” Brienne said suddenly, a surprised giggle hidden under the word. “Yes of course I will Hyle. Of course I will marry you.”

The crowd erupted into cheers as Hyle pulled Brienne towards him and stuck his tongue down her throat, before wedging the ring onto her finger. Jaime could only watch in horror as this nightmare unfurled before his eyes; as Brienne let Hyle pull her into an embrace, as she said something admiring about the ring, as she whispered in his ear.

In fact, she did not look at Jaime once.

“_No_, wench,” he managed to mumble, but she couldn’t hear him over the crowd, nor see him over the tumult of congratulations. Jaime began to look round wildly, trying to spot any hint that this was just a bad dream, and soon he would wake up in her arms at the Winterfell Hotel ready to get married in the morning. When no such sign came, Jaime did the only thing he could think of doing, the only thing he knew how to do.

He ran.

As he got to the door which led down to the lifts, the tears welled in his eyes, and he did not look back when he thought he heard someone call his name, nor when he threw his gift that he had been carrying all evening onto the huge pile of presents by the door.

_Why Brienne? _he thought. _Are you ever going to tell me why? Am I going to have to wait six years just like you did?_

Only once he was locked in the safety of the lift, slowly descending down to the ground level, did Jaime finally permit himself to cry, the tears rolling down his cheeks as heartbroken, agonising sobs wracked his body.

_I deserve this, _he thought.

_I’m not meant for the light._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun-dun-dun!!! What is Jaime going to do?
> 
> I would love to know what you think, so please leave me a lovely comment!
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime has a reckoning with his past...


	15. You Disgust Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the announcement of Brienne and Hyle's engagement, Jaime tries to work out why...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming back for another chapter. This one is a little bit different, so I hope you enjoy. As ever, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!

Jaime gasped when he got outside, taking the cool night air in with a big, deep breath. Part of him hoped that on impact with his insides it would freeze his heart so he didn’t have to feel anymore, didn’t have to think anymore, nor love, nor long, nor loathe. Not conscious of where he was going, Jaime just walked, placing one foot in front of the other, just as Bronn had advised him when he first started training for the marathon. Soon he was on a bridge. He didn’t know which bridge, just that it was one of the many which spanned the Thames. From this vantage point he could see the delicate bend of the river as it wended its way to the sea. It glistened in the moonlight.

_Why, Brienne? Why did you let me pour my heart and soul out to you and then agree to marry Hyle? Do you hate me that much? Do you want to cause me the pain I caused you? Why, Brienne? Why?_

Watching the light from the sky and the city reflect on the water, Jaime tried to find the explanation as to why Brienne had done what she had just done. In his mind he could see her, from the moment he first met her to the second she had agreed to marry Hyle, aging and changing, her hair growing longer then cut shorter again, her face alight with happiness and then drawn, lined with stress. Looking at her from every angle, he tried to find an explanation to why she had done it, and he immediately fell on one thing.

_You disgust me._

That phrase had tormented him for six whole months after she had first said it, especially when he had gone to see his father or his sister, and they had made their requests.

Fix up this man. _You disgust me._

Destroy that woman. _You disgust me._

Take that company to court and rip it to shreds. _You disgust me._

_You disgust me. You disgust me. You disgust me._

Nobody had ever spoken to him like Brienne had before, laid his litany of crimes out in front of him without thought or compunction. Every day he had felt watched by her blue eyes; the disgust evident.

And he had so wanted her to like him.

It had all come to a head the day his father had fallen out with his old associate Aerys Targaryen. It was all over Cersei; she had been engaged to Aerys’ son, Rhaegar, but he had run off with some northern girl, and now she wanted her revenge.

“I want you to get everything we have on him and tear him apart,” spat Tywin, angrier than Jaime had ever seen him. “Nobody slights the Lannisters, not even Aerys.”

Jaime knew it was a dangerous game to play; just as Jaime was the Lannister’s plant on the right side of the law, the Targaryen gang had Daenerys, Aerys’ daughter, a high ranking police officer at the Metropolitan Police. The Lannister and Targaryen criminal empires had been so intimately intertwined, that Jaime knew that if he revealed the Targaryen’s drug smuggling and money laundering, they would do the same in return. _Lannister Industries _would topple if he pulled even a single thread of the fine, beautiful, but poisonous tapestry that Aerys and Tywin had weaved over the years. At that moment when he looked into his father’s green eyes – so similar to his own – filled with such anger and hate, Jaime knew he didn’t want a part of it anymore. He wouldn’t go down with his father and sister.

He didn’t want to disgust Brienne with the blue eyes anymore.

“If you walk out that door,” Tywin growled, “you are never coming back. You’re no longer one of us. You are not a Lannister.”

“Then I’m not a Lannister,” he had said, turning his back and shutting the door before either his father or sister could have another word.

Once he was free, Jaime stopped defending shits in court and prosecuting innocents. He decided to start working _pro bono _– his savings were considerable after all – working for people whose money issues had just got so out of hand they didn’t know what to do. The eternal refrain – _you disgust me _– lessened by the day, but he was still haunted by her eyes.

Her blue eyes.

After six months of his new life, his income was no longer enough to support his old lifestyle, so he was forced to downsize from his huge apartment in Central London to a more modest flat south of the river. On his second day in his new home he had not had any food in the house, so had dropped into the little cake shop down the road to pick up something for breakfast. Jaime had nearly fallen over when he saw Brienne with the blue eyes standing behind the counter, her hair tied up in a messy bun, flour on her face, serving a customer. In those days, _Sweet Tooth _had not acquired the status it was later to have, so he could slip into the shop without queueing. Her blue eyes grew wide when she saw him, her mouth dropping open in shock. It took a moment for her to compose herself before she could bring herself to speak.

“You.”

“Me,” he had replied, giving her a little smile. “Me wants some lemon drizzle cake if you don’t mind?”

Her jaw was set firm, her eyes unsmiling. “Who are you, _me_? With those grammar skills, I’m thinking you must be Tarzan.”

“If I’m Tarzan, wench, then you’re Jane.”

In spite of his attempt at flirting, she stuffed the cake in a little paper bag quickly and when she spoke, she was as cold as the North wind. It didn’t deter him. The next day he came back in and ordered the carrot cake.

“You’re back again,” she had huffed.

“Yes,” he smiled. “This place has such good customer service.”

He thought that got a little quirk of the lips.

On day three he went for a little gingerbread man. As she was getting off the tray with her tongs, she knocked one of his buttons off. Jaime gasped in mock horror. “Not the gumdrop buttons!” he squawked in his best falsetto.

“What the hell was that?” she had snorted.

He looked surprise. “Have you not seen _Shrek?_”

“No?” she replied, confused.

“Well, I’ll have to make you see it sometime.”

Two weeks later, Jaime had tried half of the selection _Sweet Tooth _had on offer, and she no longer treated him so coldly when he came in to place his order. She had even started giving him recommendations.

“The Chocolate Tiffin is good,” she had advised, “or the Strawberry Ripple Cake.”

Jaime had bit his lip in what he hoped was a seductive way and looked straight into her eyes. “Do you have any wenches? Because I’ve seen one that looks especially tasty.”

Brienne had gone a brilliant red, mumbled something about mothballs in the attic, and hurtled off up the stairs behind the counter, leaving Jaime to be served by the slightly gormless shop assistant Podrick. When he had come back the next day, Brienne had blushed furiously before shoving Pod at him again and starting a conversation with an elderly customer with an ear trumpet. The day after that, she wasn’t even there, and Pod told him that she had a headache.

Consequently, on the third day after he had told her he liked the taste of wenches in the morning, he broke his routine and dropped in after work at about six o’clock, with a DVD copy of _Shrek _tucked under his arm. He had not approached her immediately but sat in one of the booths and waited. Brienne had been at the till, pretending to care about the customers, but he could see how often her eyes had flitted towards him, how she looked him over with admiration in her eyes.

Well, he hoped it was admiring.

Brienne eventually got the courage to come over in person when it was time for the shop to close. “We’re closing,” she had announced.

“That’s a shame, because I wanted to talk to you.”

Brienne narrowed her eyes. “What about?”

“About that date.”

She had given him one of her pretty blushes. “What date?”

“That date I asked you on by the water fountain that you turned me down for. I want another shot.”

Brienne had looked genuinely confused. “Why?”

Jaime smirked. “Because ever since you gave me a right royal tongue-lashing on the stand at Renly’s trial, I’ve liked the look of you, wench. And I’m not blind. I see the way you stare; I happen to think that you like the look of me too.” Brienne’s breathing started to become a little erratic at that, so he leaned forward to touch her hand which was resting on the table. She tried to flinch away.

“We can’t do this,” she said, trying to remove herself from his grasp. “You set up Renly, you do all sorts of bad things.” Her blue eyes had been as condemning as the day she said _you disgust me._

Wanting to change her mind, he only held on tighter. “Not anymore.”

She looked so cute as she furrowed her brow at him. “Why?”

“Because of you.” Her eyes had widened. “That day at the water fountain… you told me what kind of man I am, and I couldn’t bear it. You saw me for what I was, and I didn’t like the picture you painted. I wanted to be better… I’ve tried to be better…” Holding her hand, he told her about the _pro bono_work and some of the cases he worked on; a publican named Masha Heddle was accused of an insurance scam involving a shipment of onions, a firm called the _Antler Men _falsely accused of bribery, and pursuing the claims of several people against a new age hippie called Melisandre Asshai who had been operating a pyramid scheme for direct access to a fictional deity called the Lord of Light.

“Oh,” said Brienne as he finished his story, not having removed her hand from under his.

“So, _Shrek?” _he asked, getting the DVD out from inside his jacket.

Two days later, he was sitting on the sofa in the upstairs flat at _Sweet Tooth _on the sofa next to Brienne watching _Shrek_. She looked genuinely horrified at the part when Lord Farquaad tortured the Gingerbread Man for information, but at least finally appreciated what Jaime had been trying to do every time he bought a slice of gingerbread off her.

“It’s a terrible impression,” she had insisted.

Jaime laughed, putting an arm round her shoulder. “You love it.”

At that first little bit of contact, she had gone totally rigid in his arms, but then he had used his free hand to draw little circles on her wrist. “Easy wench, I’m only holding you.” This close, he could feel the peculiar angularity of Brienne’s body, as well as the softness it hid. Eventually, by gently stroking the bare skin on her forearms, he managed to get her to relax, and towards the end of the film she even put her head on his shoulder. Jaime would always joke later that, as Shrek and Fiona fell in love, so did he and Brienne.

Even though Jaime had enjoyed their time together immensely, he didn’t kiss her; he could tell it would be too much. Nor did he try on their second date, when he took her bowling at a Rainforest themed joint called _A Walk on the Wild Side _near the South Bank. On date three, she volunteered to cook him dinner, and he found himself back her flat being stuffed full of prawn cocktail, Moroccan tagine, and chocolate covered strawberries. At the end, she even brought out some gingerbread to make him laugh.

“You are such a good cook,” he had said charmingly, “everything of yours I’ve tried has been magnificent.”

She blushed at the praise. “Thank you, Jaime.” While he liked her forthright and furious, like she had been at Renly’s trial, that night he decided he enjoyed Brienne the soft innocent flower just as much. She was so easy to tease.

“Although, there is one thing I really would like to taste tonight that I haven’t had the pleasure of yet.”

“Oh?” she had replied, curious. “Have you been eyeing up the baclava in the kitchen? Because I told you they are for my dad’s birthday next week.”

“No, wench,” he smiled. “I’m not talking about the baclava. I’m talking about you.”

The knife she had been holding went clattering the floor in her haste to propel herself off her chair and away from him. “You don’t want to kiss me,” she announced.

“Oh yes I do,” he replied, getting to his feet. “And I’m not just talking about kissing.”

At that statement she went redder than he had ever seen her. “Oh, I… uh…”

“Tell me you don’t want it,” he said breathlessly, marching towards her. When she gave him nothing but blushes, he pulled her astonished looking face towards him and kissed her with everything he had. In her surprise she opened her mouth and he wasted no time in slipping his tongue between her teeth.

If he enjoyed Brienne the Innocent Flower, at that moment he was intensely glad that Brienne the Ferocious made her reappearance. Suddenly, she was kissing back, grasping at him as if she wanted to take everything he had and use it for her pleasure. Jaime wanted nothing but to give, to pour himself into her and know what it was like to be totally vulnerable in her arms. With every garment ripped off with clumsy hands and teeth, with every step towards the bedroom, Jaime thought he was getting closer and closer to his goal. Brienne was breathing hard, moaning into his mouth, and being super enthusiastic at staggering closer, ever closer, towards her bedroom.

Reality only seemed to hit for her when they fell onto her bed, entangled with one another, and she suddenly panicked. “Stop Jaime,” she said, grabbing hold of his arms to push him away. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Oh god, I do,” he had said, suddenly feeling like a mortal trying to ravage an angel at the innocent expression she was giving him. “I really, _really _do. Why do you think I wouldn’t?”

Even though he was semi-naked in her bed, her eyes began to fill with tears. “Because I’m ugly.”

Jaime didn’t really know how to answer that; he thought it was monstrously untrue, but he did not think it the right time to deconstruct her world view. So instead, he went with, “so what? I’m an arsehole. And yet you still look at me like you want to rip my clothes off. Any other reasons?” Even though she was beginning to laugh through her tears, he could still sense the pain there, so pulled her close and held her tight. “Tell me, Brienne.”

“I’m a virgin,” she mumbled into his shoulder, so quietly he almost couldn’t hear her. “And I don’t expect a man like you will want to put up with my inexperience and nervousness.”

Jaime drew back so he could look her in the eye, to show her he didn’t give a shit. “Wench, surely you know this by now. There are no men like me. There is only me.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes, which made a tear escape onto her cheek. “Even so, I know _you_.”

“Do you?” he asked, looking at her as if she were some sort of exotic creature he had never seen before. “What do you think you know about me?”

“I know you’ve been coming to the shop and flirting with me for the past couple of months in the hope you can get free cake.”

“No,” he said, determined to correct her. “Although I very much like your cake, I like you more. I want you. I want to sleep with you, and I have since the first time we met, you mad woman.”

“You have?” she replied softly.

“Yes,” he purred. “I want to know what it’s like to have you come apart in my arms, Brienne. Let me have that honour.”

She still looked so anxious. “But I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Don’t worry, you could never do that,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and stroking her hair, “I’ll look after you, I promise. I’ll be gentle, I won’t do anything you don’t want. Just _talk _to me.”

After that, she had let him remove the last of her clothes and kiss her gently. It was only when his kisses moved to places other than her lips that he felt her tense once more. Even as he was knelt between her thighs, intoxicated by her scent and longing to taste her, Brienne looked as if all she was expecting from sex was a couple of thrusts.

“Are you going to… to…?” she had stammered.

Sensing her trepidation, he tried to be consoling, saying, “not yet. First, I’m going to make you so wet for me that you’ll be begging for it. You’ll want it so much that you will forget every single one of your fears, my love, I promise… I promise…”

After that, he found it easier to coax her with his fingers and tongue, with tender kisses on the inside of her thighs and between her breasts and just below her ear. That night, he had taken immense pleasure in drawing her out of her shell and making her ready to receive him, so when it finally came time to bury himself inside her she was no longer anxious, just moaning his name.

The next morning, when he woke up in her arms, she was smiling.

“We just had sex,” she said, almost as if she was surprised.

“We did, wench,” he grinned. “Do you fancy another round?”

They did have a second round. Then a third. They went for the fourth, fifth, and sixth the next night at his flat, and after that Jaime stopped counting. Although Brienne had first presented herself as a blushing maiden, it turned out that after a bit of coaxing she was insatiable and relentless, so was happy for him to have her anywhere and everywhere that they could. At his flat. At her flat. In the alley behind _Sweet Tooth. _In his office. The time they did it in Renly’s bathroom had well and truly let the cat out of the bag with the Bitch Posse, and it started months of internecine warfare with Brienne’s friends, but Jaime didn’t really care. He loved her and would put up with anything for her. Naturally, Jaime first confessed the strength of his feelings to her one night at the height of his passion, and she had said it back immediately.

“Oh, I love you too, Jaime… I love you so much… I… _oh… _harder… yes, yes… I love it… I love you… oh… Jaime…”

For a year, Jaime Lannister had officially been the happiest man on the planet. Every day, he woke up to find nothing but love for him in her eyes and the phrase _you disgust me _was permanently banished from his thoughts. He continued his work _pro bono, _feeling like he had value and a place in the world that was connected to everyone else. And then on top of it all, he had Brienne, and he belonged entirely to her.

He should have known it would not last.

There wasn’t anything particularly unusual about that night; the sky was moonless, which made it a little harder to see as they drove back from a romantic weekend in Stratford-upon-Avon. It had been late, and Brienne had been falling asleep, her head lolling about against her headrest. Jaime had been distractedly admiring her incredible cuteness, so he didn’t see the black van come hurtling around the corner. It came smashing into them so fast that their car flipped once, twice, three times, before crashing into a tree further down the road. On impact, the petrol tank cracked and burst into flames and Jaime knew there was so little time before the car would be a ball of fire, that he had to get them both out.

“Jaime,” Brienne had said, her voice sounding very close and very far at the same time. “I can’t move. I’m trapped.”

At that, panic had seized him. Wrenching his right hand out from where it had been crushed between his seat and the collapsed door, he had tried to pull at her seatbelt, tried to get her free. Smoke was slowly building up in the little car, but even so he could see the bloody lines on her shoulder that told him she was hurt, perhaps badly.

_I have to get her out of here, _he thought madly. _Take me instead._

In the end, he had no idea how he did it. Dragging, pulling, kicking, shoving at the car eventually allowed him to heave Brienne across to him, and from there they had somehow ended up outside. When they were finally free and standing as far away from the burning car as possible, Jaime relaxed enough for the adrenaline to leave his body, and a combination of the suddenly agonising pain in his right hand and the smoke filling his lungs promptly caused him to pass out.

When he woke up in hospital several days later, high on painkillers, Jaime discovered the doctors had removed his right hand to save his life. If that had been painful enough, it only got worse when Tyrion arrived and told Jaime that their father suspected Aerys was behind the mysterious car that had crashed into them in the middle of the night.

“Why me?” Jaime had said, shocked. “Why would he want to hurt me?”

“Because you are a Lannister,” Tyrion had replied. “And he wants to burn us all.”

At first, Jaime would only let Tyrion see him in the hospital. This was partly because he was ashamed of what he now was – a broken cripple – but mostly because he couldn’t bear to face Brienne and tell her this was all his fault for being a Lannister, his fault for being the man he once was.

Three days in, Tyrion tried to change his mind. “Brienne’s outside. She wants to see you.”

“No,” Jaime had ordered. “She can’t see me like this.”

_I’ll disgust her. I’ll repulse her. I’m broken and useless and weak. Who could ever love a man like that?_

In spite his protestations, it seemed Brienne could. When she had finally had enough of being kept away from him, she had bowled passed the nurses and the doctors into his room, armed with a bunch of flowers, even though she had her newly stitched shoulder.

“Please Brienne,” he had begged, “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“I _want _to see you like this,” she replied, climbing onto the bed beside him and pulling him into her arms. “My brave, wonderful man.”

He had shaken his head, trying to hide his tears. “Go home, Brienne. Why would you ever want a boyfriend with no right hand and who has done so many bad things in the past?”

_Bad things that led to this. I put you in danger. It’s all my fault._

“I can’t leave, because you told me to go home and I _am _home. Home is wherever you are, Jaime.”

That only made him cry harder, so she kissed him and kissed him until he stopped.

They had tried to return to normal life, but it was hard. First of all, he had to get a prosthetic hand. He hated it to the depths of his soul, and it made him angry, lashing out at Brienne when she didn’t deserve it.

“It’s alright, my love. These things take time. I love you.”

That was always her line; Brienne had thought things would just be alright if she loved him enough, and then everything would go back to how it used to be. Jaime knew she was wrong. The threat of Targaryen vengeance permanently hung over his head, even as Tyrion assured him that their father and sister were doing everything in their power to make sure Aerys got his just desserts. It didn’t make Jaime feel any better.

Nor did Brienne’s more unorthodox plan for making him happier that she unleashed while on a trip to the beach in Cornwall.

“Marry me,” she said simply, while there was sand between her toes and salt in her hair.

Jaime squinted at her. “Shouldn’t I be the one to ask?”

She shrugged. “Go on then, if you really want to.”

Although he had major reservations, to keep her happy he had said, “marry me”, and then let her kiss him senseless when she agreed. That night, while she slept soundly beside him, those dreaded words finally made their reappearance.

Brienne, will you marry me, a one-handed cripple? _You disgust me._

Brienne, will you marry me, a man who is to blame for the accident? _You disgust me._

Brienne, will you marry me, a man who can never adequately atone for all the wrong he’s done? _You disgust me._

Yet, even as those words ruled his heart and mind, that night at the Winterfell Hotel, Brienne had not looked disgusted. She had only looked incredibly, irrevocably heartbroken.

The disgust had only returned later.

_And that’s why, _Jaime told himself on that nameless bridge crossing the Thames, _that’s why she would rather have Hyle. Because at the end of the day, I still disgust her. And that can never change._

Haunted by the past, Jaime longed to glance up and around, to see if tonight reminded him of that time six years ago. There would be some poetic justice in that; the night of her heartbreak mirroring his. However, Jaime did not want to look at the sky, because he did not want to be reminded of how he deserved so little beauty in his life after everything he had done.

_Why would the stars want to look down on such as me?_

“There you are,” came a gentle voice, disturbing his dark tranquillity.

Jaime didn’t know how long he had been sitting on the ground, sobbing, with his head in his hands, but he was forced to reconsider time once more when he looked up and saw Sansa Stark gazing at him concernedly, flanked by Loras, Renly, and Bronn.

“She’s marrying Hyle,” was all he could say, desperately but unsuccessfully trying to hold back the tears.

Sansa gave him a worried expression. “I know, and I’m _so _sorry, especially after what you said happened on the balcony.” Wanting to comfort him, she crouched down so she was level with him, placing a hand on his knee. “But you can’t stay out here. Let us take you home; you can’t be out here all night. It’s cold.”

“I can if I want to,” Jaime sniffled, trying to fold in on himself once more, but he then felt Bronn give him a gentle tap with his foot.

“Get up,” he ordered. “There’s no point crying about it out here. The least you can do is cry about it at home, in the warmth of your own bed.”

It was perhaps the most sensible thing that Bronn had ever said, so when his friend ordered Loras and Renly to help him to his feet, Jaime did not argue. Nor did he object when Renly started a bitter conversation about Hyle, joining in to nod along to Bronn’s story about missing theatre tickets, and opening his mouth in shock when Sansa told them all about Hyle warning her off.

“We’ve got to do something,” Sansa concluded passionately. “He’s so wrong for her.”

Jaime felt the incredible sadness land on him once more. “But what?”

Nobody had an answer, but Jaime privately thought it didn’t matter anyway because even if Brienne dumped him...

_I'll still disgust her..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! Please let me know in a lovely comment; they give me inspiration ;)
> 
> Next chapter... After Hyle and Brienne's engagement, Gal has to be told the news...


	16. Rock Bottom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of the previous night, Jaime has to come to terms with Hyle and Brienne's engagement...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for coming back! If you are enjoying my story, please leave me comments and kudos - it helps me consider my writing in a new light :)

The following morning Jaime could hear them all outside the door of his flat – whispering, conspiring – discussing who should be the one to knock. He just pretended to sleep through it.

“You should knock,” came Renly’s voice.

“Me?” squawked Bronn in reply. “Why me?”

“Because you were his first trainer,” insisted Loras. “The first one who believed in him.”

Jaime could almost hear Bronn shaking his head. “Olenna was almost first. And she has a spatula.”

Olenna snorted. “Do you want me to go get it? We could whack him several times with it until he gets out of bed?”

There was a little chuckle at that. “No,” said Sansa. “That won’t be very productive. We need to _persuade _him to come training. Hitting him won’t solve anything.”

“Well why don’t you knock?” suggested Renly. “You did the whole kind and caring routine well last night.”

“I don’t think it should be either of us, Renly,” replied Sansa. “He probably thinks we are still Team Brienne.”

Loras scoffed. “There is no Team Brienne. There is no Team Jaime. That’s just a totally ridiculous divide they forced on our group of friends when they split.”

“I know,” said Sansa, almost sounding sad. “I really miss Tyrion. He was a right laugh, and he’d know just the right thing to say right about now.”

“Well he’s not here,” interjected Bronn. “So it’s got to be one of us, and I vote _you_, Sansa.”

When there was a mumble of agreement, Sansa said panicked, “but it can’t be me.”

“Why not?” asked Olenna.

Sansa sighed. “Because he probably still blames me.”

“What for?”

“The night that he ran out on Brienne, I spotted him in the reception,” she said a little sadly. “I saw he looked weirdly panicked, but I didn’t do anything when he gave me some bullshit about paying the mini bar bill. I just let him go. That’s why it should be Bronn; you’ve always been on his side.”

“He’ll tell me to fuck off,” insisted Bronn.

“No he…”

At that point there was an obvious interruption, as there was a creak of the stairs and then the sound of Margaery Tyrell’s voice came floating through the door. “Why are you all standing out here?”

“Jaime’s inside refusing to come for training,” said Olenna. “We’ve tried phoning, and texting, and Instagramming_, _and WhatsApping, and whatever other ridiculous things you young people do these days, but he’s not responding.”

“Have you tried knocking?” suggested Margaery.

Bronn laughed. “Well that’s why we’re all standing here. We want to work out who would be the most tactful person to do it.”

Margaery decided for them.

“JAIME LANNISTER,” she yelled as she battered furiously on the door, “GET YOUR LAZY ARSE OUT OF BED. YOU HAVE TRAINING TO DO.”

“Margaery,” interrupted Loras, tutting at his sister. “He’s depressed, not lazy.”

“JAIME LANNISTER. GET YOUR DEPRESSED ARSE OUT OF BED. YOU HAVE TRAINING TO DO.”

“Do you think that will work?” asked Sansa uneasily.

“I don’t know,” replied Olenna. “But if not, I’ll go and get the spatula.”

Jaime couldn’t put up with it anymore. Hauling himself out of bed, he chucked on a pair of boxers before going to the front door, still hearing them all whispering outside. They stopped the instant he flung the door open.

“What do you want?” he growled.

It took him a moment to realise that everyone apart from Bronn was staring at him as if they had just seen him for the first time. Margaery grinned at him. “Well, _hello _Jaime!”

Jaime just felt very confused, until Bronn interpreted for him. “Just because he’s finally thinking about getting his six pack back, it doesn’t give you five the right to drool all over him. Men don’t like being harassed either.” Sansa, Renly, and Loras all looked quite red faced at that remark, while Olenna and Margaery just seemed pleased with themselves.

Wanting to change the topic of conversation, Jaime crossed his arms across his chest and repeated himself. “What do you want?”

The six of them looked at each other for a moment, before Olenna spoke. “I know it’s a Sunday, but it’s nearly midday and about time you got up and did your training. The marathon is in three weeks yesterday, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” said Jaime sullenly. “But I don’t want to go training. What the fuck’s the point when Brienne is marrying Hyle? What the fuck’s the point of anything?”

Loras rolled his eyes. “There’s no time for nihilism in marathon training. Brienne’s getting married, so what? You can still put one foot in front of the other and come out for a run.”

“_So what_?” Jaime asked incredulously. “Loras, how would you like it if Renly, the love of your life, suddenly announced that he was marrying Bronn?”

It was Renly’s turn to laugh as he put an arm round Loras’ shoulder. “Don’t worry love, I don’t swing that way.” Bronn looked mildly offended.

Sansa interrupted this totally unnecessary tangent. “But your training hasn’t got anything to do with Brienne. Yes, it’s very sad that she’s marrying Hyle, and yes, we all agree with you that she is being an absolute plonker for making such a decision, but what can we do about it right now? On the other hand, you _can _go for a run today and it will make it that little bit easier in three weeks’ time.”

“Remember,” said Olenna sagely, “change is the small decisions you make every day.”

Jaime considered accepting, but then he thought of Brienne once again.

_You disgust me._

“Today,” he said slowly, “I’m going to decide to stay in bed. I need a day to mope. Tomorrow, I’ll come out training.”

That seemed to reassure the six of them; one day of moping about seemed reasonable, considering what had happened. Knowing that plea would finally be enough for them to let him return to bed, Jaime decided not to tell them all what he was really thinking; namely, that he might not even bother doing the marathon now that Brienne was so far away that he could never reach her.

“Okay,” said Loras slowly, “I’ll be kind and give you one day off, but first thing tomorrow you are coming out training. Deal?”

“Deal,” replied Jaime, even though he wasn’t certain he was going to keep that promise.

* * *

Once his personal training slash therapy group had finally left him to his own devices, Jaime got up, had a shower, and got dressed. All he wanted was a pack of cigarettes and a Full English – complete with hash browns, black pudding, and fried bread – so he went out in search of them. After stopping in the off licence for his cigarettes, he headed to his favourite Greasy Spoon, _The Bowl of Brown, _where he knew the waitress would let him order a Full English, an Eggs Benedict, and two cups of coffee without batting an eyelid.

The waitress had just brought over everything he had ordered and Jaime had just started to tuck into the fried mushrooms when someone noisily entered the café. Jaime didn’t look up – he was too interested in his food – so he didn’t notice it was Brienne until she marched right up to him and sat down opposite him. Even then Jaime chose to ignore her, picking up the glass bottle of tomato ketchup next to him and trying to pour some onto his plate.

When he continued to give her nothing, she said his name.

“How did you know I was here?” he responded sulkily.

Brienne sighed before she tried to explain, her voice gentle. “This is where you always come when you want to mope and, seeing as you weren’t at your flat, I figured here was my best bet.”

“I’m not moping,” he insisted, trying to shake some ketchup loose from the frustrating glass bottle with his left hand.

“No?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Because I see the diet is off.”

Only then did he look up at her – “marathon runners need calories” – before going back to shaking the bottle. When nothing came out, he started to swear.

“Jaime,” she interjected gently, “give it here.” He let her take the bottle from him and, using a knife, scooped out some ketchup and put it on the side of his plate.

“Thank you,” he said reluctantly, as he picked up his fork to eat. Again, she stopped him. Although he had asked for the waitress to cut up his food for him because of his hand, she had clearly forgotten, so Brienne took up the task herself.

After a few moments of focussing on his food, she tried again. “Jaime, can we talk?”

“We talked last night,” he snapped. “I don’t think I have anything else to say.”

“I do,” she admitted. “About Hyle… I didn’t know he was going to propose…”

“Doesn’t matter, does it? You still said yes.”

The expression on her face seemed to indicate to him that she had both expected and dreaded him saying that. “That’s not what I mean,” she continued. “I just mean that this is so out of the blue that Gal isn’t prepared for this news…”

“Not my fault,” replied Jaime, taking the fork off her and starting with the beans. “If you had decided that you wanted Hyle playing Daddy, you should have forewarned our son.”

At that statement, she started to look a little irritated. “I don’t want Hyle playing Daddy._You _are Gal’s dad, and therefore you need to be part of the process in making sure he is okay with this.”

“Do I?” said Jaime sceptically.

“_Yes,_” insisted Brienne. “I actually think it is probably a good idea if you come around this evening after he gets back from Bethany’s. You, me, and Hyle can explain to him that Hyle and I are going to be married, but you will still be an important part of his life.”

“Mmmm,” said Jaime scooping up some more beans. “I think I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Clipping my toenails.”

Brienne shook her head. “Jaime, please be serious.”

At that, Jaime lost his temper. Throwing his cutlery down, he spat, “I _am _being serious. I want nothing to do with this at all. If you want to marry that utter dickhead, that’s your prerogative, but do not expect me to sit down with our son and tell him what a nice guy Hyle is and how perfect his life is going to be with you three in your house with the white picket fence. I would be lying. So please, could you leave me in peace to eat my breakfast with second breakfast?”

It was now her turn to get angry. Her nostrils flaring, she said, “stop playing the jealous, scorned lover. Just because you are not getting what you want for once, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do the right thing by our son.”

“Oh,” scoffed Jaime, “and what the hell do you think I want?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You _know _what you want.”

Jaime let out a bitter laugh at that. “And thanks to a bottle of Scorpion, wench, I also know that you’ve thought about spreading your legs for me once or twice over the years too.”

Brienne went bright red in a strange mixture of fury and embarrassment, her features contorting in an expression of disgust. “You are such an arrogant pig.”

He couldn’t help but mirror her, smirking all the while. “Oh yes. There it is. There’s the look. I’ve seen it on your face for six years, day after day. _You disgust me, Jaime. _Well guess what, Brienne. You’re no better. You might play the obedient little fiancée in the daylight, but we both know that at night you are still gagging for my cock.”

The flat of her palm went cracking across his cheek in a second, and there was a little gasp from the other people gathered in _The Bowl of Brown _at that tiny outbreak of violence_. _As the sting of her slap settled into his skin, he instantly knew he had pushed her too far.

“That was unworthy of me,” he said, looking back at his breakfast. “Forgive me.”

She didn’t accept his apology, but instead said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have hit you. I know we’re both angry and upset…”

“You’re not,” interrupted Jaime. “You get to run off into the sunset with _Hyle.”_

Brienne took a deep breath, trying to control her emotions. “Jaime. I’m not here to fight. I just think that we need to do the right thing by Gal and make this as easy for him as possible. He is only six. This is going to be very confusing for him.” The thought of Gal momentarily softened Jaime’s venom, but then he realised that Brienne was looking at him with those big blue eyes as if she was the entirely innocent, injured party in all this.

_What about me, wench? _he thought. _What about me and my heart?_

“Listen, if you want to marry that twat Hyle, that’s fine, okay?” he lied, stabbing his fork a little too forcefully into a piece of sausage. “You’re a big girl, and you can make your own mistakes. But don’t come down here while I’m eating and expect me to make your decisions easier for you. You want to marry Hyle? Own it and tell Gal yourself. We all have to come to terms with our mistakes.”

Brienne looked at him as if she was unsure about whether they were still speaking about the same thing anymore, but Jaime didn’t care. He couldn’t put up with her wounded puppy act for much longer.

“Self-pity grates, wench,” he said. “Surely you know that by now?”

“Jaime…”

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” he snapped suddenly, sick of her alternating attempts at being conciliatory then riling. “So please, if you have any regard for me at all, please just leave me to my breakfast.”

She clearly knew she wasn’t going to get anything else out of him so, after one more pained look, Brienne conceded to his wishes. Getting up from her chair, she turned away from Jaime and swept out of _The Bowl of Brown _without another word.

* * *

His conversation with Brienne just confirmed what he had already decided earlier: he wasn’t going to run the marathon. What would be the point? Jaime had only agreed to run because he wanted to prove he was better than Hyle, more worthy of Brienne than him, yet now it seemed he had already won. Hyle had embarrassed Jaime over _The War of the Five Kings, _then he had proved he could buy Gal bigger and better presents, and that engagement ring must have cost a small fortune. And now Hyle was going to play stepdad.

Knowing it wasn’t just him his decision effected, Jaime prepared to go round breaking the news to different people, starting with Bronn. His friend did not really have a full time job, just operating vaguely as a “wheeler-dealer”, so Jaime made a guess that Bronn might be spending his Sunday’s gambling at _The Piano Shop. _The Hound just pointed at the door when Jaime arrived, confirming his suspicions, and once Jaime was inside, he was greeted by the familiar vision of Asha Greyjoy thrashing Bronn at poker.

Jaime watched the game in silence until Bronn came away with a small monetary loss, and he got to his feet with a smile on his face. “Come on Jaime. We should go to _The Twin Swords. _I fancy a beer.”

Not wanting to string Bronn along, he said, “can we talk?”

“Sure. Over a pint.”

“No,” replied Jaime. “Somewhere private.”

Bronn just narrowed his eyes at Jaime suspiciously, before letting him lead him out of _The Piano Shop _and to a small alleyway just off the man road a few streets away. It was almost eerily quiet, and the silence compelled Bronn to speak. “This seems pretty private. What’s on your mind?”

Jaime stared at the floor, not quite able to look Bronn in the eye. “I’m not running the marathon.”

There was a beat before Bronn spoke. “What?”

“You heard me. I’m not running the stupid marathon.”

“Why? Because of Brienne?” scoffed Bronn.

“Well… of course. What’s the point if she’s going to marry Hyle?”

“_You _are the point!” Bronn said, his voice approaching a shout. “You know, most people run marathons for themselves, not to point score with their exes.”

Jaime shuffled his feet. “Who cares about me?”

“Well _you _should care about you,” replied Bronn. “And if you’re not going to care about you, can you at least try to care about me? I’ve got twenty thousand pounds on this!”

Jaime felt a knot of guilt twisting in his gut, but even so he tried to deflect. “That is not my problem! I didn’t tell you to bet on me! You just did it because you are a gambling addict.”

At that suggestion, Bronn gave Jaime a not insubstantial shove.

“What was that for?” Jaime squawked.

“Why are you always such a whiny little bitch?” growled Bronn. “So what? Brienne’s marrying someone else. You were no closer to getting back together before she announced that she was getting engaged to that twat, so why are you so upset?”

“I’m _not _a whiny little bitch,” spat Jaime. That earned him another shove. “Oi! Quit it!”

“I’m not a quitter,” snarled Bronn, this time pushing him quite hard. “Unlike _you._”

Jaime was fed up with Bronn needling at him, shoving him, and generally being a massive pain in his arse, so gave him a proper whack that almost toppled him. Bronn just laughed. “Oh Jaime, if you’re going to push me, you’ve got to really mean it.”

Consequently, instead of just a shove, Bronn rugby tackled Jaime and the two of them tumbled onto the floor of the alleyway, Jaime’s head painfully cracking into the concrete. At a distinct disadvantage because of his missing hand, Jaime went for Bronn’s neck, trying to catch him off guard so he could roll him over. Bronn just went for a couple of traditional slaps to Jaime’s face.

“You’re such a pathetic pretty boy, you cowardly twat. You can’t even complete a marathon,” said Bronn, slapping Jaime a lot harder than Brienne had while she had had him at her mercy.

“Get off me!” shouted Jaime, flailing his arms. “You total bastard!”

After another slap, Bronn said, “I’ll stop if you pull yourself together and do the marathon, you fucking idiot.”

“I will not!” Jaime bellowed, trying to get up, but after a bit more wrestling Bronn managed to get him back on the floor with another shove.

Smirking, Bronn said, “and what about Gal, eh? What’s he going to think when you tell him that you are not doing the marathon? He’ll think you’re an utter failure, that’s what he’ll think. A total deadbeat dad; pays piss all in child support and can’t even run a fucking race.”

At that, Jaime snapped. Moving quickly, he kneed Bronn firmly in the bollocks, so much so the other man groaned in pain and toppled off him instantly. “Shut up!”

“Or what?” Bronn wheezed.

“I’ll… I’ll… kick you this time! And I’ll fucking well mean it!”

At that, Bronn grinned his teeth and hissed, "come on, Jaime. I’m sick of fighting. Let’s call a truce.”

“You need trust to have a truce,” he spat in reply.

Bronn smiled. “You’re my best mate. I trust you." Jaime felt his anger dissipate slightly at that statement. Bronn sometimes just had a way of being so incredibly frank about these things. In truth, Jaime did not want to fight anymore either so, letting his guard down, he extended his hand to Bronn to help him up.

That turned out to be a massive mistake, as Bronn just used the opportunity to pull Jaime close enough that he could kick him in the nuts in revenge.

“FUCK YOU!” yelled Jaime, as he fell down next to Bronn, writhing in agony.

Bronn let out a pained laugh. “Okay, now we can call a truce, you treacherous bastard, even though I still think you’re a cowardly prick.”

When he got to a point when he was not in crippling pain, Jaime got to his feet and ran away, not wanting to say another word to Bronn.

* * *

It took Jaime quite some time to recover from Bronn slapping him repeatedly and kicking him in the balls, but eventually he managed to drag himself home, determined to smoke himself to death in the comfort of his own bed. However, once he got there, Jaime found himself haunted by both Bronn and Brienne, accusing him of cowardice and weakness.

_I just think that we need to do the right thing by Gal and make this as easy for him as possible. He is only six. This is going to be very confusing for him…_

_A total deadbeat dad; pays piss all in child support and can’t even run a fucking race…_

_I don’t want Hyle playing Daddy. _You _are Gal’s dad, and so you need to be part of the process in making sure he is okay with this…_

He lit up his first cigarette, dragging the smoke into his lungs like a familiar friend. This was the real Jaime Lannister, a total failure who liked hiding in his room at weekends feeling sorry for himself. Looking across at the bedside cabinet he reached for the picture of Gal, feeling his heart momentarily warm at the sight.

_Am I a deadbeat dad? _he asked himself.

Jaime had always told himself that he tried his best with Gal – took him out, played with him, listened to his problems – but he’d never had him stay the night, never cooked for him, never dealt with the real blood and shit of proper parenting.

_That’s all Brienne._

Jaime wondered what she was doing now. It would probably not be long before Gal would be back from Bethany’s, when she and Hyle would sit down and tell Gal that they were getting married. He could see the three of them huddled up together like a proper little family in the cosy sitting room in Brienne’s house. A lump came to Jaime’s throat at the same time as Gal’s. In his mind’s eye, he could see that his son would cry with confusion, asking why all the adults were pretending that Mummy and Daddy didn’t like each other and that Hyle wasn’t an utter cunt.

Well, perhaps Gal wouldn’t say _exactly _those words, but the sentiment still stood.

His little boy would be so damn hurt about what was going on around him so suddenly, unsure why Hyle was barging into his house, his life, and his mother’s bed. Gal wouldn’t even understand why Jaime lived like a mole in a hole so far away, while Hyle spent every night wrapped in Brienne’s arms.

_I’ve been a fucking idiot, _thought Jaime.

Brienne had been right. He _was _the only one who could make Gal alright with this, who could assure him that his dad was still his dad and wouldn’t abandon him to the awful fate of being Hyle’s stepson. Stubbing his cigarette out, Jaime got out of bed and put his clothes back on.

_If I don’t want to be a deadbeat dad, _he told himself, _I’ve got to be there for Gal right now. This is not about my feelings, but about his._

It was that thought that gave him the strength to throw away the rest of his cigarettes, suck up all the pain he was feeling, and walk round to Brienne’s, his head held high.

_I have to be there for him… I have to be there for him…_

Jaime paused at the end of Brienne’s driveway, steeling himself by taking a few calming breaths, but it turned out he did not ever have to summon the courage to knock on the door, because Brienne came charging out the house. As she marched up to him, her expression was wild, her cheeks flushed, and then she took him totally by surprise by grabbing him by the shoulders, shaking him violently.

“Is he with you?” she almost screamed.

Jaime furrowed his brow. “What? Who?”

“Gal!” she shouted. “Is Gal with you?”

“No,” replied Jaime, his fear suddenly rising. “I thought he was at Bethany’s.”

Brienne shook her head, her breathing erratic. “Hyle picked him up, said something to him, and then Gal ran off! Have you spoken to him? Did you tell him about me and Hyle? Jaime, tell me!” Her accusations were getting wilder and wilder by the second, but Jaime could tell it was only because she was descending into a spiral of panic, not because she actually _did _think he’d spill the beans on her and Hyle before the time was right.

“I haven’t seen him,” said Jaime sincerely. “I thought he was with you.”

“Oh god!” cried Brienne, the tears spilling onto her cheeks. “He’s missing, Jaime. He’s gone missing! He’s run away!”

Even as the fear grabbed at his heart, he put his hand on her cheek and tried to wipe away her tears. “Look at me, Brienne, look at me!” Although she was shaking with fear, eventually his words sunk in and she gazed straight into his eyes. Time seemed to go slower. “We’re going to find him,” insisted Jaime. “I _promise. _Where is Hyle?”

“He’s still at Bethany’s,” she trembled, tears threatening once more.

“Good,” said Jaime. “Phone him and tell him to stay there in case Gal comes back. You stay here; Gal might have decided to make his own way home. While you are waiting, ring everyone whose house he might know how to get to – Sansa’s, Renly and Loras’, your dad’s – just to check he hasn’t gone there. I’ll call up a search party and go and look for him myself. He can’t have gone far, he’s only six years old.”

At the mention of how young and fragile her son was, Brienne’s tears came back again. “He’s so little…”

“He’s tougher than he looks,” maintained Jaime, just as Brienne started crying forcefully, hiccupping with fear.

“Where is he?” she sobbed. “Why did he run away?

“Stop that, wench,” ordered Jaime gently, pulling her close and resting his forehead against hers. “We’ll get those answers soon enough, but first of all, I promise you I am going to find our son.”

“You are?”

“Yes. If it’s the last thing I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! It was a tiny bit lighter than the last couple of chapters! Let me know what you think in a lovely comment.
> 
> I also just wanted to say that, if you weren't already aware, there are a couple of "Run, Fat Knight, Run" spin off chapters in my one shot collection story, "Many Flavours of Ice Cream" (particularly Chapters 3 and 5). If you are interested in more of this world, please check it out.
> 
> Next time... Jaime goes to find his son...


	17. The Runaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gal has run away, and Jaime goes on a desperate hunt for him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Welcome back! I hope you are enjoying my story. Please leave comments and kudos if you are - I love to know how I'm doing!

As Jaime ran down the road, the first thing he did was call Tyrion.

“Yo, Jaime, how’s it…?”

“Is Gal with you?” He knew Tyrion lived ages away, but Jaime had taken Gal there once or twice, so maybe he had tried to attempt the journey.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “No, why would he be?”

“He’s run away,” replied Jaime, trying to keep his breathing level. “He was last seen at his friend Bethany’s house after talking to Hyle and he’s just… gone.”

“What?” said Tyrion, concern flattening his tone. “I’m coming around to help you look.”

“Thanks,” said Jaime as he picked up his pace. “Could you also call Bronn and tell him?”

“Sure, but wouldn’t it be easier coming from you? You live nearer; he can help you look.”

“Yeah,” conceded Jaime, “but I kicked him in the nuts earlier. We’re not on speaking terms.”

A little whistle on the other end of the line told Jaime that Tyrion understood. “Oh, okay. I’ll call him. And then I’ll be on my way.”

“Thanks.”

After hanging up, Jaime picked up his speed exponentially. He was suddenly very glad for over a month of training, otherwise he would be a tired sweaty mess right about now, which would be no use at all for Gal.

_Come on Gal, where are you? _he asked his son in his head. _Where would you go?_

The first place that Jaime tried was Gal’s school. Although it was the weekend and the gates were locked, Jaime reckoned that it would be one of the few places that Gal would know how to get to off the top of his head. Knowing his son, it also wouldn’t have quite clicked that his teachers occasionally left the school grounds, so he may have assumed he could run inside and talk to Ms Tarly whenever he wanted about whatever his problem was.

However, he was not there.

Next, Jaime tried _Sweet Tooth_, knowing Brienne sometimes took Gal there in the evenings after picking him up from school_. _Even though it was a Sunday,as usual, there was a huge queue out the front door. Jaime pushed past waiting customers – much to Ygritte’s consternation – and bundled up to the counter, where a very haggard looking Podrick Payne was on shift.

“Podrick,” gasped Jaime, “is Gal here? Have you seen him?”

Pod shook his head. “No. Why would he be here?”

“He’s run off,” said Jaime quickly. “If you see him, can you please call Brienne?”

Pod gave him a reassuring nod even as Jaime had already started running out of the shop and down the street, shouting his son’s name. “Gal! Gal! Where are you? Gal!” In his panic, Jaime found himself running around the neighbourhood in a big circle, and only stopped when he realised that he had run up down Casterly Street three times.

_Calm down, _he told himself. _You’ve got to calm down otherwise you’ll never find him. Think! Think! Where could he have gone?_

Jaime suspected that the reason Gal had run was to do with whatever Hyle had said to him, which was most likely something about his and Brienne’s engagement. Instinctually, Jaime knew that Hyle would not have been able to resist being the one who broke the news, relishing the power.

_What would a six year old in that situation think the logical thing to do was? _Jaime asked himself.

He thought it was perhaps to go home to his Mum and get a little bit of reassurance, but as Jaime had not yet heard from Brienne, he assumed that had not happened. If not to his Mum, where would he go? The answer hit Jaime like a lightning bolt.

_To his Dad._

Of course, Jaime had never had Gal back to his flat before, so there was only one place that he would instantly associate with him: the park. In a moment, Jaime was sprinting with everything he had down the road, determined to get to the park as quickly as possible before anything happened. “I’m coming for you, Gal,” muttered Jaime. “Don’t you worry about it.”

When he arrived at the park gates, Jaime could not see Gal immediately, so he began to search the areas where they usually played. Gal had always favoured the most terribly obvious hiding places during Cops and Robbers, so Jaime checked all of them first, his heart dropping with disappointment when he didn’t find his son behind the bandstand or near the lake. He had almost given up hope when he looked up and suddenly noticed a pair of purple trainers connected to a six-year-old boy’s legs hanging out the tree they had climbed together. Overcome with relief, Jaime picked up his phone at once.

“Jaime?” came Brienne’s voice, panicked and desperate, “is that you?”

“Yes, wench,” he replied, finding her voice weirdly soothing.

“What’s going on? Where…?”

“Don’t worry,” he interrupted. “Everything’s fine. I’ve found him.”

The sound of her sighing in relief hit him like a wave crashing on the shore, and he felt the tension from his own body disappear too. “Where are you?” she asked. “I’ll come find you. I’ll…”

“No,” he said gently. “Give me a moment with Gal. It might do him some good to have a father-son chat. I’ll bring him home as soon as everything is sorted. Maybe it’s best if you call everyone we’ve got out searching; I’ve also involved Pod, Tyrion, and Bronn, so message them too.”

“Okay,” she replied, her voice suddenly as smooth as honey. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”

Once he had hung up on her, Jaime walked towards the bottom of the tree, peering up so he could see his son properly. As expected, Gal was red faced and upset, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

“Are you alright up there, Gal?” asked Jaime gently, trying not to spook the horses.

At the sound of his voice, Gal jumped, looking down at him. “Daddy! I’ve been trying to find you!”

“I know,” replied Jaime. “Do you want to come down and talk to me?”

Gal just shook his head and at that, Jaime knew he would have to climb the tree. Taking it carefully because of his hand and making use of the many conveniently placed branches, Jaime began to shimmy up the tree until he arrived at the wide fork in the trunk that had just enough room for him to squeeze in beside Gal. Once he was sitting beside his son, he immediately put his arm around him and, in return, Gal cuddled up next to him.

“Why did you come to the park, Gal?” Jaime asked, running his hand in small circles on his son’s shoulder.

Gal sniffed. “I wanted to talk to you, and I didn’t know where you lived. You said you lived like a mole and David Attenborough says moles live underground in green places… so I came here.”

Letting out a huff of laughter at Gal’s child logic, Jaime said, “well, we’ll have to correct that. You will have to come over to mine and I can make you a delicious slice of toast with my toaster.” Although it wasn’t much, Jaime could tell that having Gal over to his flat clearly had more symbolic value to his son than any real fun he would have there. He knew he needed to make it happen.

“Yes please,” said Gal, resting his head on Jaime’s chest. They did not speak for a moment as Jaime started to stroke Gal’s hair.

“Now,” Jaime said gently, when he though Gal had relaxed enough against him. “Why did you want to talk to me?”

Gal looked up at Jaime. “Hyle said him and Mummy are getting married and that he’s coming to live with us. Is that true?”

Trying not to let the emotion sound in his voice, Jaime sighed, “yes, Gal. Yes, it is true.”

Gal’s eyes went wide in shock. “But… but… they can’t!”

“Why not?” said Jaime gently. “You know that Hyle is Mummy’s boyfriend; he sometimes spends time at your house, doesn’t he? Surely it's not that big a change if Hyle moves in permanently?”

“You have to stop them!” insisted Gal.

Jaime tried to smile, but there was a lump in his throat that made it hard to move without weeping. “I can’t stop them.”

“Why not?” asked Gal, tears coming to his eyes. “Just tell Mummy _you _love her. It will make her happy… I know it will.”

_I want to Gal, I really want to, _Jaime thought. _But she doesn’t love me._

“It’s not that simple.”

“It _is,_” insisted Gal. “I told Bethany I loved her this morning and she’s now my girlfriend. Her mum is taking us pond dipping on Friday. You can do the same with Mummy.”

The intense innocence of six-year-old dating made Jaime let out an affectionate breath of laughter. For a moment, Jaime wondered whether he could just walk over to Evenfall Lane and ask Brienne if she wanted to come and look for frogs with him; he could imagine the look of incredulity on her face.

“No Gal, I can’t,” said Jaime firmly. Even though Jaime wanted to keep the candle burning for himself, hoping that one day Brienne would turn around and love him again, Gal needed resolution. Finality. “Many years ago I did something very bad to your Mummy that’s made it very difficult for her to forgive me.”

Gal looked surprised by that admission. “What?”

Not wanting to bare his soul entirely, Jaime said, “one day, when you are old enough, I will tell you, but for now, what you need to know is that just because Mummy and I don’t live together, it doesn’t mean we love you any less. We both love you _so _much… so, so much. We want you to be happy, and even when Hyle and Mummy get married, all three of us will do all we can to make sure you live the best life possible, the happiest life possible. You and me can still come and play in the park, climb trees, and play Cops and Robbers. Mummy will always read you stories, sing you songs, and look after you. And Hyle… Hyle cares for you in his own way.”

Gal shook his head. “But Hyle doesn’t even like me. He won’t let me drive his boat.”

“Hyle does like you,” said Jaime, even though he wasn’t even sure that was true. However, if Brienne was insisting on Hyle, Jaime would make Gal feel as good about the situation as possible. “And you can persuade him to let you drive his boat.”

“How?” asked Gal.

Jaime smiled. “Just keep asking. He’ll give eventually.” He did not truly think that Hyle Hunt was the type of man to give into a child’s pleading, but he wanted to give Gal hope. Gal started to smile at that, so Jaime said, “come on, shall we get you home?”

The smile shrunk then vanished. “But I don’t want to go home. Hyle and Mummy will be there.”

Jaime nodded. “They will, but they will talk you through all this, and make you feel better about it, okay?”

“No,” moaned Gal. “I don’t want to. I don’t like it. I don’t want them to get married.”

_I don’t like it either, _thought Jaime, but he did not voice that feeling.

“Gal,” said Jaime gently, “as you get older, you are going to realise there are lots of things that you don’t like, okay? Things much worse than this. And when those things happen, you can’t just run away.”

“Why not?” pouted Gal.

“Because it doesn’t solve the problem. If you run away inside, or run away entirely, the problem is still there. You’ve got to stick at it, and then figure out a way to fix it. Or, if you can’t fix it, find a way to be at peace with it.”

“Is that what you do, Dad?” asked Gal.

_No, _thought Jaime sadly. _I never take my own advice._

Jaime didn’t answer Gal’s question, but instead gave him a little squeeze. “Come on Gal. Your Mummy is really worried about you. It’s probably time we got you home.”

Knowing there was no more fighting it, Gal nodded his head. “Okay Daddy, but… can we come and play in the park soon?”

“Of course we can,” smiled Jaime. “Now come on. You’ve got to help your old man down from this tree.”

* * *

Gal cheered up on the walk back from the park to Brienne’s house, because he kept asking about the marathon as Brienne had told him he would be running next to the River Thames. “Dad, did you know there are Mallard ducks on the River Thames?”

“No,” said Jaime honestly, “I didn’t know they came this far downstream.”

“Sometimes they do,” claimed Gal. “You could see them while you are running.”

“I could,” said Jaime, not telling Gal about his decision to drop out.

“I wish I was old enough to do the marathon.”

“Why?”

“I like running. It’s fun. It makes me feel free.”

When they finally got back to Brienne’s house, she was standing at the front door smiling in relief when she saw Gal and Jaime.

“Gal!” she cried, as Gal went running up the path and threw himself into his Mum’s arms. “Don’t you ever do that again, okay? You really scared me.”

“I’m sorry Mum,” Gal said sincerely.

Not wanting to tease out the issue while he still felt so fragile, she gave him a quick kiss before saying, “now go inside and pick out some toys for your bath, then it’s time for dinner.”

“I’m going to get my lizards!” said Gal excitedly.

“Go on then, sweetie,” replied Brienne affectionately as Gal went dashing past her into the house. Only then did she stand up to her full, imposing height to look at Jaime. Her blue eyes were shining, and she looked on the edge of tears.

“Thank you,” she said gently.

“I told you, wench, you don’t have to thank me for finding our son.”

“Even so,” she whispered, “I was a panicking mess before you turned up. So… thanks…”

Jaime shrugged, deciding it was best to take what was offered. “Don’t mention it.”

There were a few beats of awkward silence before Brienne said, “what was the matter?”

Jaime saw no point in hiding the truth. “Hyle told him that you two are getting married and he was just worried what that would mean.” Brienne went to say something, suddenly looking incredibly guilty, but Jaime put a hand up to stop her. “Don’t worry. I told him we both love him very much and will do everything in our power to look after him… and so will Hyle.”

She seemed genuinely moved by that statement. “I didn’t think you liked Hyle.” It was not an accusation or provocation, just a gentle observation.

“I don’t,” replied Jaime truthfully, “but Gal doesn’t need to know that. How will it help him be alright with this if he thinks I don’t like his new stepfather? I want to be the best dad I can be for him… and that means keeping my big mouth shut sometimes.”

“I’m not sure you can do that,” she joked softly, smiling at him, before turning the direction of her words towards reassurance. “And don’t worry. You _are _the best dad you can be for him. Gal loves you very much.”

Jaime thought of the night of _The War of the Five Kings _when Gal had nervously clung to him while they waited for rescue at the Police Station. At the time, Jaime had been caught up in the injustice of it all, how unfair it was on him that Bronn hadn’t turned up with the tickets. Now he just saw what a terrible example he had been to Gal.

“No,” Jaime disagreed, “I’m not the best father I can be. Did you know I found Gal in the park? He was coming to look for me but didn’t know where to find me because he’s never been to my flat. My son doesn’t know where his own father lives; what does that make me?”

Brienne tried to soothe him. “You don’t earn a lot at Ellaria’s. It’s the best you can afford and be close to us.”

“Didn’t I tell you I’ve got a second job?” asked Jaime, thinking perhaps the news had become lost in the drama of the past few weeks.

“No,” said Brienne, surprised, “where is it?”

“I work at the Citizens Advice Bureau. I’m a caseworker, advising people on legal problems they have and putting them in touch with people who can help.”

Brienne’s mouth fell open in surprise. “Oh, that’s so great, Jaime. That’s _perfect _for you. It really makes use of your skills in a way that being a security guard never will. And it helps people too.”

Jaime could feel himself blushing at her praise; she could affect him so easily. “Thanks, but… I thought you wouldn’t like me doing something like that.”

She looked a little confused. “Why not?”

He swallowed, suddenly feeling very hot as her question shined a light on a very sensitive part of his soul. “Because you once met an unscrupulous barrister by a water fountain who did nothing but hurt people when he practiced the law. I remember it well. He disgusted you.”

At that statement, Brienne’s eyes because full of concern and she walked towards him, only stopping to rest her hands on his shoulders. “_He _didn’t disgust me. What he _did _disgusted me. And he stopped doing those things. For all the time we were together, you worked as a barrister _pro bono. _You used your powers for nothing but good, to steal a phrase from a superhero movie. I don’t think you are the man I first met, because you made yourself so much better.”

In that moment, her blue eyes were so very beautiful that they held the whole world for him. “But I can be even better, Brienne. I’m going to save up the money I make at my new job to rent a proper place, so Gal can come over to visit and even stay the night. It’s going to be really hard for you the next few months with Hyle moving in and you planning the wedding, so I want to be there to make things easier for you. If you need me to, I’ll pick Gal up from school and take him off your shoulders for a few hours, so you don’t have to rely on your dad or Hyle. I want to be helpful to you because I want to be a better father to Gal.”

Jaime didn’t know what he expected from Brienne at that, but it was not that she would wrap her arms around his waist and pull him into the closest embrace they had shared since they were a couple. Resting his head on her shoulder, he let himself relax into her, taking in the heat and smell of her that was an once intoxicating, familiar, and comforting. He tried not to cry.

“I believe in you, Jaime,” she said, her voice cracking. “I know you can do it. You can do anything you put your mind to. You once defied your family to do the right thing. You once pulled me out of a burning car. You once lost your hand and came back fighting. I know you can do something as easy as getting yourself a decent flat… I know it.”

The passion and strength of her words moved him so much that he struggled for something to say in response, so he eventually settled on a meek “thanks wench,” mumbled into her neck. After that, they did not need to speak anymore, as their shared relief in finding Gal and the acknowledgement that everything could be better was expressed entirely through her body pressed to his, their hearts beating inches away from each other. Jaime was totally lost in the feeling of being in Brienne’s arms once more, deciding there was no greater thing in all the world, until there was a loud cough behind him.

“Brienne.”

She pushed him away so she could turn to the sound of the voice, and when Jaime copied, he saw Hyle Hunt standing at the end of the driveway, a scowl on his face.

“Oh, Hyle,” said Brienne nervously, her face a little flushed. “You are back. Jaime found Gal and I’m just about to make dinner… it’s tagliatelle. Do you want some?”

Hyle wasn’t looking at Brienne, however. Instead, his eyes were fixed on Jaime. “What is _he _doing here?”

Jaime sighed internally. All he had wanted to do was to reassure Brienne that he could be better than he had been for the past six years, and now she would have to deal with her paranoid boyfriend thinking the worst. Not liking the expression on Hyle’s face, Jaime tried to calm things down. “I’ve just dropped Gal off. Brienne was a little upset when he went missing, so I was just comforting her. I’m going now.”

At that, Hyle turned back to Brienne. “Yes. Please do. We have tagliatelle to eat.”

Brienne nodded firmly before walking back up towards the door, Hyle following. Shooting a quick look back over her shoulder towards Jaime, she said, “I’ll text you about when you can have Gal.”

“Okay,” he replied, before Hyle bundled her indoors and she disappeared from view.

Jaime was still thinking about her as he walked down the road. In every place their bodies had touched he was burning, overcome with memories of what it had been like to wake up in her arms every morning. Momentarily lost to the past, Jaime only remembered that he was wandering in the rough direction of his flat when his phone buzzed.

_Brienne: _I believe in you. You can be better.

After a whole day of being lost in misery because he felt permanently shut out in the cold, away from Brienne and Gal, Jaime suddenly realised that he would always mean something to her, just like she would to him.

Because, after all, he didn’t disgust her.

* * *

It took Jaime longer to get back to his flat than usual because he was exhausted by stress, overwhelming relief at finding Gal, and the feeling that Brienne had just opened the windows and let in the sunlight once more. That distant, aching joy was shattered the moment when he turned into Highgarden Road, as he was horrified to see that absolutely everyone who could have a problem with him was standing on the driveway of the house. Bronn, Olenna, Loras, Renly, Sansa, Margaery, Tyrion, and Tysha were staring at him as he came up the road, making Jaime vaguely self-conscious of his clothes and the way he was walking.

As he finally reached them, Tyrion smiled. “You found Gal then?”

“Yeah,” replied Jaime, the relief clear in his tone. “He’s at home with Brienne having his dinner.”

“That’s good,” said Tyrion gently. Jaime nodded in response and made a move to go past them into his flat. He stopped when Olenna spoke.

“What is _not _good is what Bronn has just told us. Apparently, you are not going to run the marathon, is that correct?”

Feeling the stern expressions of everyone around him, Jaime shook his head. “No, that’s not correct.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” snapped Bronn, stepping forward. “I’ve spent all day trying to avoid Euron and his heavies because of _you_. They’ll skin me alive when they find out I don’t have their twenty thousand quid.”

“I’m not calling you a liar,” replied Jaime gently, “it’s just I’ve changed my mind. I _am _going to run the marathon.”

There was a moment of silence as all of them shot surprised looks at each other. Jaime wanted to say something, but he couldn’t think of the words, so his bacon was eventually saved by Sansa. “But, why? You told us there was no point in running when Brienne is engaged to Hyle. She’s _still _engaged to Hyle, so why change your mind?”

A small lump came to Jaime’s throat at the thought of Brienne, her face awash a with belief in him that he had thought had died long ago. Maybe there would be hope one day, somehow, for them to be together again, but that moment wasn’t now. She had a new life with Gal and Hyle and her beautiful house on Evenfall Lane to look forward to, after all.

“Because it’s not about Brienne,” Jaime announced, his voice rising with every word. “Bronn, you were right. I _am _a whiny little bitch, and I have been for the past six years, and perhaps longer. I don’t want to be that anymore.”

If the gathering on Margaery’s drive had looked surprised before, now they seemed positively flabbergasted.

“I don’t want to whine and cry about my life, I just want to live it,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You know what Gal said to me? He told me the marathon would be _fun. _That thought had never crossed my mind before, that I might do it just because I wanted to run next to the river, to see some Mallard ducks, and challenge myself. It was all about Brienne and _proving _stuff to her, and in doing that I lost sight about what I want. I want to be better; a better dad to Gal, a better marathon runner, a better man.”

He took a breath, steadying himself. “And you never know, this marathon might be the way to do it. And just like Gal said, it might even be fun.”

The eight people in front of him were staring at him open mouthed, as if the real Jaime had been kidnapped and been replaced by a very lifelike looking robot. Loras and Renly were shooting each other confused looks; Sansa nervously biting her lip; Tysha smiling. However, it was Tyrion who eventually broke the silence when he started clapping.

“Fucking hell, Jaime,” he grinned, “welcome back. I think the last time I saw you was 1995.”

Bronn then joined in with Tyrion, technically turning it into applause. “Good speech mate. I knew I was right; you _were _a whiny little bitch.”

Then everyone was applauding, making Jaime blush from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. When they wouldn’t stop, he took a mock bow. “I technically haven’t done anything yet…”

“True,” smiled Sansa, “but it’s a good start.”

Then Olenna piped up. “Why are we all standing out here? Jaime’s had a change of heart. They’ve found Gal. I think we should celebrate! I have a bottle of bubbly in my fridge, why don’t we all go and have a glass?”

There was an appreciative murmur of agreement at Olenna’s suggestion, and the group started to move up the drive towards the house. On spotting Jaime’s cheery expression, Renly smirked, “_you’re _not drinking.”

Jaime pouted. “Why?”

“Training,” said Loras emphatically, joining the conversation. “We’ve got less than three weeks, and you were a late entrant. First thing tomorrow, we’re going to start the last phase of marathon training and we _will _get you over that finish line.”

Feeling confident for the first time in ages, Jaime found he couldn’t argue with that, and followed the rest of them into Olenna's flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that. I feel like it's been so sad for the last couple of chapters, that we needed a little light. As ever, I love comments and kudos :D
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime undertakes the final stage of his training for the marathon...


	18. The Last Leg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last three weeks before the marathon, Jaime takes his training seriously...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for coming back! If you enjoy this story, please leave comments and kudos. They make me happy!

The three weeks before the Riverrun River Run were the busiest of Jaime’s entire life. Loras had created a very strict exercise regime that included training both before and after work. He had even leant Jaime a small set of weights that he could take to Ellaria’s to use instead of sleeping and sitting around when he wasn’t chasing Ros up and down the High Street. At the Citizens Advice Bureau, Jaime did not have time for such work – there were cases to be dealt with after all – most obviously Pia’s. Josmyn Peckledon had agreed to take her on, and every time she came into the office to discuss her finances, she grinned whenever the name of her dashing young lawyer was mentioned.

Jaime also got to spend much more time with Gal. Hyle had decided that he and Brienne were going to have some big fancy wedding in the Caribbean, so insisted they had to go and find an appropriate wedding planner. That meant that for most nights of the week, Hyle had Brienne trudging round West London talking to experts on flowers, wedding dresses, and mood lighting. The first time this had happened, Brienne had messaged Jaime and asked him to pick Gal up from school and keep him entertained for a couple of hours.

Instead of going to the park like they usually did, Jaime bought Gal an orange juice and then took him back to his flat. His little boy had bought his dinosaur toys with him, so Jaime suggested they build a prehistoric world. Together, they moved some furniture to get a space on the floor and then, using pillows, the duvet, old cereal boxes, tins of food, and anything else they could get their hands on, they modelled out their dinosaur home world. Jaime kept it standing even when Gal wasn’t there, so when he came back later in the week he could play again.

Two weeks into this little adventure, Jaime and Gal had mapped out a whole story for the dinosaurs, which the latter was enthusiastically explaining to Brienne when Jaime dropped him off.

“And then the Stegosaurus and the Pterodactyl climbed the mountain together and became best friends!”

“That’s great Gal,” smiled Brienne, ruffling his hair. “Why don’t you go upstairs and look through your toy box to see if there are any other dinosaurs you want to take to Daddy’s tomorrow? If that’s alright with you, Jaime?”

“Of course. It’s fine.”

Gal gave his dad a quick hug before charging into the house in search of his dinosaurs and Jaime just let out an affectionate chuckle. “I hope he had fun.”

“I think he did,” said Brienne gently. “He loves your dinosaur world; he’s been telling me all the stories for days.” At that, Jaime looked up to smile at her, but noticed she seemed a little tired and drawn.

“Are you okay?” Jaime asked.

She nodded at him, a little unconvincingly. “Yes I’m fine. It’s just Hyle keeps taking me to all these wedding planners. Today we were at some fancy bakery in Chelsea seeing some different wedding cakes.”

Jaime narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t you want to bake the cake? I seem to recall you had a beautiful three tiered marble cake in the work for ours.”

“I did want to make the cake, if I’m honest,” she said, looking wistful, “but Hyle thought that it would be better to go elsewhere to get something a little classier than what I’m capable of.”

Jaime made a disgusted noise at the back of his throat. “Fuck him. Your cakes are delicious _and _classy… just like their baker.”

Brienne blushed and gave him a little smile. “Thanks Jaime, but you don’t have to flatter me.”

“I’m not flattering you,” he said honestly. “I’m telling the truth.”

There was an awkward pause for a couple of seconds before Brienne decided to change the topic of conversation. “I’ll text you tomorrow about what is best for Gal, okay? I think he has some kind of after school reading club that’s starting tomorrow, but I don’t know what time.”

“Sure,” said Jaime easily, “let me know.”

“Great, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

And then before Jaime knew it, it was the night before the Riverrun River Run. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, Jaime decided to defer to his friends. That was perhaps a little unwise, as Bronn had read somewhere on the internet that the best thing to do the day before a marathon was to carb up.

“I’m talking a mountain of pasta,” he had said authoritatively. “You’ll need all the energy you can get.”

Olenna had then asked if the three trainers and their protégé could get together and have dinner in her flat as a final celebration. “We’ll open a bottle of bubbly, but _none _for you, Jaime.”

“That’s fine with me,” he had grinned. “It’s probably not wise to be drunk and disorderly while running!”

Olenna had planned it to be a ‘small gathering’ but, as ever, it blew out of all proportion. Once Loras had agreed to come, he had insisted that Renly attend too and then, not wanting to leave Sansa out, they had invited her as well. Sansa had then asked if Jaime could invite Tyrion and Tysha.

“We haven’t seen them for ages,” she had said. “It would be nice to catch up!”

That was eventually determined to be a good idea, as Tysha’s pasta bake was semi-legendary, and as she promised to bring enough to feed five thousand, the date was set. Jaime had been hoping that his brother and his sister-in-law would be the last of the guests, but then Margaery had got wind of the party and promised to bring a disco ball, her iPhone speakers, and a big sign that said JAIME LANNISTER – ERECTILE DYSFUNCTION UK.

Yet it turned out even that was not enough for the party loving Tyrells. Although nine people was perhaps a little too many to be fitting in Olenna’s flat, it still didn’t stop her asking Jaime whether he wanted to invite Brienne and Gal.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Olenna had asked, genuinely perplexed. “This is going to be a great achievement for you; surely they want to celebrate that?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he said, biting his lip. “It’s just that Brienne’s fiancé is also doing the marathon and I think it will cause a lot of unnecessary drama if they are here with me rather than with him.”

Olenna had just nodded as if that all made perfect sense and said, “oh.”

_Oh, indeed, _thought Jaime darkly.

In the end, the ‘small gathering’ was quite fun. They ate great food, listening to some terrible music, and Loras even taught Olenna the dance to _Gangnam Style. _Bronn had bought a massive crate of alcohol over for good luck, and then expressly forbade Jaime from drinking any of it.

“We have to leave by eight at the latest tomorrow morning, as registration closes at nine,” he said firmly, handing drinks to Renly and Tyrion before pouring Jaime a glass of water and shoving it into his hand.

“Thanks mate,” Jaime joked. “You really know how to make a guy feel special.”

Given that he could not drink, Jaime instead focussed on carbing up, a task he was taking to with aplomb. He kept going almost interrupted until his third bowl of pasta bake, when there was a tap on his shoulder. It was Sansa. “Jaime,” she whispered, drawing close so her mouth hovered next to his ear. “There’s someone here to see you.”

“Who?” asked Jaime, putting his bowl and fork down.

“Just come and see,” Sansa said gently.

Although he felt a little confused, Jaime complied and followed Sansa out of Olenna’s flat and into the main hall. Once there, Sansa opened the front door and shoved him outside. He went to turn around to complain, but then he saw who was standing in front of him.

An angel with blue eyes, wearing a white dress, and looking terribly sad.

“Brienne,” he said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

Her cheeks were flushed, and she could not quite look him in the eye. “I wanted to wish you good luck for tomorrow.”

The gesture nearly floored him. “Does Hyle know you are here?”

“No,” she said honestly. “He’s retreated to the _Quiet Isle _for massages and wellness treatments. He wants to be in the best physical condition he can be for the race. He doesn’t really care where I am.” Jaime thought there was something a little sad in her tone, so he tried to cheer her up.

“And here I am eating copious amounts of pasta bake.” That got a quirk of her lips, before a long silence. Looking at her confusedly, Jaime eventually asked, “why are you here, wench?”

Brienne reacted instantly. “I’ve got something for you,” she replied, reaching into her coat to pull out a small present, wrapped in brown paper.

If Jaime was confused to begin with, now he was totally lost. “What is it?”

“Open it.”

Jaime took it from her tentatively and, balancing it on his prosthetic hand, he used the other to rip the paper. In a moment, her gift was revealed. It was a small painting, a copy of a picture that he had taken the day Brienne had proposed to him in Cornwall, and then he had proposed right back. Both of them were coated in sand and salt, but in the painted version of reality they were both so happy. Jaime thought the artist had taken much more time and care with painting him than her, because while he seemed to almost reach out the page, Brienne seemed a little flat.

“It’s beautiful, thank you,” he said breathlessly. Knowing how artistic she was, he asked, “did you paint it?”

“Yes,” she replied, giving him a little nod. “It’s just… something I wanted to give you as a wedding present and I never got the chance.”

Jaime felt a lump come to his throat. This beautiful gift was just one of the many millions of precious slivers of Brienne that he had missed out on over six years because of his own stupidity. Yet, although he was grateful, Jaime didn’t understand why he was being rewarded with it now.

“It’s very lovely and I really appreciate it, but why do you want me to have it?”

She took a moment to consider her answer. Eventually, she gave him a tired look and said, “I don’t want to argue with you anymore, Jaime, and it seems like every time we open our mouths that’s all we ever do. This is a way to end it.”

“I don’t want to argue either, wench,” he replied, trying to get her to look at him properly. “But I don’t think we have been the past couple of weeks, and I don’t see how giving me a painting will change anything. So what is all this really about?”

Suddenly, green met blue and the whole world stopped for a moment.

“We’ve got to stop doing _this._”

“What?”

“Prodding and poking each other,” she said sadly. “Hurting each other. Trying to catch each other’s attention.”

Jaime was just confused. He had no idea what she was talking about. Knowing he was swimming in dangerous waters, Jaime began with, “I told you, I’m trying to be better. I don’t want to hurt you. I want to be a good dad for Gal, I want…”

“I know,” she said, trying to soothe him. “It’s just… I… oh, I don’t know how to say it.”

“How to say what?”

She went a brilliant red at that question, so bright that it almost obscured her freckles. “You’ve just felt so _close _recently and by giving you this, I just thought it was a way to turn the page. I’ve hung onto this for so many years and now I’m marrying Hyle, it feels about the right time to give it to you.”

“Okay,” said Jaime, feeling as if something momentous was happening, but he was not sure what. “Thanks.”

She nodded. “This way, we both know it’s over.”

“Over?”

“Over,” she replied resolutely, her eyes dropping to the floor once more. “So, good luck for tomorrow. I suppose I’ll message you about when you can next see Gal.”

“Alright,” he said uneasily, putting Brienne’s gift in his pocket.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

And with that, Brienne turned on her heel and began to walk back up the drive, not looking at him once. As she walked away, Jaime’s mind was racing.

_Why has she come? _he thought madly, even as the click of her ankle heralded her walking up the path. _She complains about catching each other’s attention and then turns up on the night before the marathon with what was once intended as a wedding present…_

_Unless…_

When she was halfway up the driveway, Jaime spoke, suddenly needing to air a truth that had remained hidden for six long years. “It will be so much easier for us to stop hurting each other when you finally admit that we are not, and never have been, _over_.”

Brienne froze, her whole body tense. “Jaime, I…”

He sprang into action.

“Tell me you don’t feel it,” he demanded, running towards her, turning her around, and grabbing her by the shoulders. “This constant _pull _between us. This never-ending need to poke and prod, needle and annoy, and hold on so tight that neither of us ever let go. For six years, it’s been driving me absolutely mad that I am so close to you and so far away at the same time.” When she didn’t say anything, he shook her slightly. “Tell me!”

“I… I… I…”

“Brienne,” he begged, her name a prayer. “Tell me you don’t love me anymore and I’ll leave you alone... but I need to know.”

Her eyes went very wide and then she pushed him away. “Don’t do this, Jaime, not now, please.”

“Why not?” he said, his chest aching at how much this was hurting. “We can’t continue to hide from each other for another six years, for the rest of our lives. We need to be honest with each other… I need to be honest with you, and I need to understand what you are feeling… because I _don’t _understand.”

Brienne snapped, crossing her arms across her chest. “Go on then. What don’t you understand?”

Jaime thought she sounded angry, which was not the emotion he was expecting. Nevertheless, he did not waste his opportunity, determined to get to the heart of the matter. “I understand that you haven’t forgiven me,” he said, swallowing heavily in an attempt to control his breathing. “What I did to you was inexcusable, but what I don’t get is why you haven’t _tried _to forgive me.” Brienne flinched at that statement, so Jaime continued to pursue the point, focussed on drawing out why she had been as cold as ice for six years.

“You loved me once; surely the prospect of being with me in some way other than a drunken fuck against your kitchen wall has crossed your mind at some point these last six years?” The feel of her warm, close, and wild on the night of Parents Evening came flooding back to him. “After all, I’ve been thinking about how to win you back ever since I took my seat on that bloody train from Edinburgh. And yet, when I look at you, it’s clear you don’t seem interested, don’t even seem curious about what could have been. How is it that in this entire time we’ve been apart, you’ve never once thought about forgiving me?” Even though he hadn’t intended it, his tears were upon him and he couldn’t stop them. “Why can’t you bring yourself to forgive me? Why can’t you see that I won’t ever be happy with anyone other than you? And you the same for me?”

It was only then that he realised she was gripping his shirt quite tightly, subtly pulling him closer and pushing him away. There was panic and fear in her eyes, but also something else. Something that he could not name. When he stopped talking, she stared at him for a few moments, before letting go of him quickly as if mere contact with him burned her.

“Brienne, I…”

“No,” she said, her voice little more than a growl. “Stop. You don’t have the right to ask me these questions.”

“I do. I can ask you whatever I want.”

“No you can’t!” she shouted suddenly; her blue eyes wild. “You forfeited that right when you left my bed in the middle of the night and made me feel like some sad, pathetic slut, half-naked in a car park begging you to stay with me.”

He remembered what she looked like in that moment so well; she was not a sad, pathetic slut. She was his angel.

“Brienne,” said Jaime desperately, “you know I’ve regretted that every day since…”

“So what?” she barked. “You didn’t just shatter my faith in _you _that night, Jaime, you destroyed my whole belief in everything… everything that matters.”

Confusion bloomed on his face. “What do you mean?”

She almost snarled at him. “Oh, it’s so easy for you, isn’t it, Jaime? You with your perfect teeth and your golden hair and your beautiful eyes. Women throw themselves as your feet. People always want to be your friend. Even when you wallow in your own self-pity, there are always people there to help you to your feet, because it’s such a great tragedy when such a handsome, wonderful man gets thrown so low. Life isn’t like that for me. Before I met you, I was a virgin because men thought it was such a great laugh to bet on who could fuck me rather than ask me out on a date. Mannish, ugly, a great cow, uglier in daylight, that’s what they said. And I heard it so often that I knew it was nothing but the truth, and because of that I was perfectly content to live my life without love at all, because I knew I wasn’t made for it. I was too ugly for it.”

It felt like she had punched him in the gut, because she couldn’t see how wonderful she was. “Brienne…”

“Shut up! I’m speaking!” she shouted, and Jaime instantly adhered to her request. “Even when I was on the stand defending Renly, you thought the way to totally discredit my testimony was to paint me as some sad, ugly loser pining over her out-of-her-league best friend, and the jury almost believed it because they took one look at my face and they could see it was true.”

“It’s not true…” moaned Jaime, “that’s not why I…”

It was almost as if she couldn’t hear what he was saying at all, so she carried on yelling. “And then _you _decided it would be a great laugh to make me fall in love with you, and make me think that all the cruel things I’d told myself for years and years were untrue; perhaps there _is _a lid for every pot, beauty _is _in the eye of the beholder, that it _was _possible that I had a soulmate who could love me for me, and not just see this horrible oversized ugly body I’ve always been trapped in. You spun me some great big romantic tale, like you were my knight in shining armour, and you asked me to marry you and promised me the world. Then, two days away from my happy ending, you fucked off in the middle of the night taking my heart and soul and my self-respect with you.”

Brienne took a huge gulp of air, her eyes still trained on him. “I had to go back into that hotel and tell everyone you had left me. I could see their pity, but I could also see their condescension; that I should have known that someone like you could never love someone like me, that there was always some better option out there for you…”

It was too much. Jaime grasped at her, trying to hold her against him, and she was still pushing and pulling at him like she did not know what way she wanted this to go. “There _is _no better option out there for me!” he shouted. “It’s _you. _I haven’t so much as kissed anyone else in six years, because even after all this time it feels like I’m betraying you. _You _are all I want. _You _are everything I want. And you deserve all the joy and love in the world, and if you’d just let me try, I would do everything in my power to make you happy.”

“When are you going to get this through your thick head, Jaime?” she spat, her tears finally coming. “I don’t deserve anything. I didn’t even deserve my own fiancé to meet me at the end of the aisle and say _I do, _so why should I deserve anything else? You destroyed my faith in thinking there was anything good out there for me, so why would I be looking for it now? I’m perfectly content to keep you as far away as possible from my heart, because I know how much you _hurt. _Hyle won’t hurt me, because he’s not a character from some stupidly romantic story like you are. He’s just some bloke who has taken a liking to me, and that’s the best I can hope for.”

Tears were pouring down her cheeks, and he lifted his hand up to clumsily wipe them away. She didn’t fight him, she just continued to cry, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her close and kiss away her sadness. However, he knew that was not what she needed. “Stop this right now!” Jaime ordered. “Don’t let a stupid, cruel thing that I did make you think any less of yourself. You deserve all the desire, passion, romance, happiness, devotion, kindness, honesty, and true love in the world because you are the best person I have ever known. If Hyle doesn’t give you those things, don’t marry him. Definitely don’t marry him to spite me, or even worse, to spite yourself. Don’t marry him because you think you are lonely or that you just don’t think you’ll ever find anyone else. Those are all shit reasons. Marry him if you love him and he loves you. Marry him if he makes you happy. Marry him if he gives you what you deserve. Anger and bitterness just make a person sick to your soul, I know that now, so just let it go! Let your anger at me go, because it does you no good, and I’m not that man who left you anymore. I’m just Jaime.”

At the sound of his name, the thrum of tension that had been coursing through her body suddenly stopped, and she went limp and languid in his arms. Stepping back, she took a breath before speaking, her voice quiet. “My anger is all I have to protect me from you. If I’m not angry at you anymore, I’ll be defenceless… I’ll be helpless… I’ll be your prey.”

“I’m not some predator, Brienne,” he sobbed trying to step forward while she flinched away from him. “I love you; I love you so much… I just want to be with you… I can’t be apart from you like this anymore…”

“Don’t,” Brienne cried, trying to push him away. “I will not go back to that car park. I won’t go back to that night. And that’s all that will happen if we are together. We’ll come back to that point again and again…”

Jaime pulled her face towards him so he could look in those beautiful blue eyes of hers, the colour of the sky on a late summer afternoon. “No we won’t. Because I know I can change, I know you can change. We can have a future together, if we want to build it. We just have to decide to do it.”

She shook her head at him, looking at him as if he had lost his mind. “When did you become so optimistic?”

“I’m not so optimistic,” he replied passionately. “It’s just that Olenna has been reading this stupid self-help book and its main piece of advice is to Fuck the Past in capital letters. I don’t want to hurt you anymore, and I think we’re hurting each other by denying the obvious; that I love you and you love me.”

Her fingers danced on the outside of his wrist, as if she was momentarily thinking of pressing his hand against her cheek. However, in the end she just pushed him away. “No, Jaime. I’m not denying anything,” she said quietly. “It’s _you _that can’t accept I’m marrying Hyle.”

“Brienne…”

She brushed her hands across her cheeks, wiping away her tears. “We need to be good parents to Gal, so you need to just accept this situation. You need to find a way to be at peace with it, for yourself _and _him.”

Jaime tried to find some words to convince her, but he knew there was very little he could do. Her chin was tilted upwards in that familiar stubborn way that told him there was no changing her mind. Her decision was final.

“I hope you do well in the marathon tomorrow, I really do,” she said sincerely, the volume of her voice dropping as she regained control of both her own emotions and the conversation. “Let me know your time, won’t you?”

Jaime nodded, knowing they were now both retreating into their familiar roles of exes who cultivated a slightly strained friendship for the sake of their son. Not wanting to hurt her anymore, Jaime just nodded, trying to swallow his own sadness. “Of course,” he said huskily. “I’m sure I’ll see you next week because… Gal…”

His words trailed away along with his heart, and Brienne just looked at the floor. Clearly not knowing what to do, she gave him a stiff nod of farewell before turning away and walking down the driveway. Jaime watched her until she disappeared around the corner of Highgarden Road, the moonlight catching in her hair.

_You deserve the whole world, wench, and better._

Jaime had hoped that he would be able to sneak back into the house unnoticed, so at the very least he could retreat to the privacy of his own flat and lock himself away with his thoughts. However, Sansa had clearly decided that she couldn’t resist having an eavesdrop and he found her standing the other side of the door. She bit her lip when he came back into the hallway.

“I heard everything,” she said, so quietly that he almost couldn’t hear her over the sound of the ‘small gathering’. “Are you alright?”

Jaime tried to smile, but he knew it was more a grimace. “My heart is broken in a million pieces, but that’s no different from every day for the last six years, so… what’s new?”

Her expression pained, Sansa asked, “Do you need anything? I’m sure Olenna said she had some beer in her fridge. It might take your mind off things.”

“No. I’m alright. I think just a glass of water and bed for me. I am running a marathon tomorrow after all.”

“Okay,” replied Sansa, her eyes still filled with concern. “I’ll let the others know that you are going to call it a night.”

“Thanks.”

“Remember. The latest you can leave is eight, so make sure you set your alarm.”

“I will do,” he promised.

There was a slight pause and then Sansa leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Good luck tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Thanks,” Jaime said again, not sounding particularly convinced. “All I can do is my best.”

After that, Sansa let Jaime go and he immediately retreated to the safety of his flat. Carefully climbing over Gal’s dinosaur world, he made sure he had laid out his clothes and anti-chafing cream for the marathon tomorrow (he didn’t want to waste time in the morning) before having a shower and getting into bed. He knew he needed to sleep, but he just ended up tossing and turning for hours, even beyond the point when Margaery turned the music off and the walls had stopped vibrating. How could he not?

Jaime Lannister was a man permanently haunted by Brienne Tarth.

Brienne with the blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a bit of a drama this time. What do you think?
> 
> Next chapter... the day of the marathon arrives...


	19. Ready, Steady, Go!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the marathon has arrived, and Jaime is not as prepared as he hoped...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome back everyone! I'm a bit earlier today because I'm going out later, so yay! I hope you are all not entirely depressed by the last instalment - this one has some light moments :D If you like this story, please leave comments and kudos :)

_It was snowing in the car park of the Winterfell Hotel. Snowflakes caught in her hair as she gazed at him with those big blue eyes, which had always had the power to uplift or condemn. He tried to reach for her, but she flinched away, even as he finally found the words._

_“You’re not like Hyle, you’re not. You’re better than he is. You’re a good woman and you deserve more. You don’t need to marry him. Stay here,” Jaime said, his voice breaking. “Stay with me, please… Stay.”_

_She didn’t stay. She was running. Running so far out of his reach that he couldn’t catch her._

_“Stay with me, please… Stay.”_

“Jaime!”

Jaime opened his eyes to find himself staring at the ceiling of his room. Memories of last night came flooding back; Brienne finally telling him after all these years how much he had hurt her, how lonely and defeated she felt, and how she was scared of forgiving him because of how vulnerable it would make her.

_Oh, Brienne, I…_

“Jaime!” came Bronn’s voice again as he hammered on the door. “You need to get up! It’s eight o’clock.”

Still lost in thoughts of Brienne, Jaime could not quite work out what Bronn was talking about. “Do I?”

“YES!” Bronn shouted, “we all got drunk so slept through our alarm, and registration for the marathon closes at nine. WE NEED TO GET GOING NOW!”

_Oh fuck…_

Leaping out of bed, Jaime was immensely thankful he had laid out his clothes the previous night, as it gave him time to splash himself with water and brush his teeth before getting into his running gear as quickly as possible.

“Jaime!” called Bronn through the door, his shouts getting more desperate.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Jaime replied, picking up his anti-chafing cream and putting it in his pocket. “Give me one sec.”

When he opened the front door to his flat, he found Bronn and Olenna standing in the corridor, both looking a little worse for wear. “Oh thank god,” sighed Bronn. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah, I am,” Jaime said, looking between them. “Where’s everyone else?”

“The whole squad went home last night,” confirmed Olenna, leaving Jaime momentarily surprised she used the word _squad, _“but I’m going to reassemble everyone and get us all down to the river to cheer you on. I know that Renly has to go and pick up the banners and posters from the printers after all.”

“Banners and posters…?” Jaime began to ask, but Bronn interrupted.

“We haven’t got time for all this shit now!” declared Bronn. “We’ve got to get you to Tower Bridge as quickly as possible. I’ll drive!”

Jaime looked a bit doubtful at that. “Are you sure that old rust bucket can cope?”

“Of course the old girl can,” grinned Bronn. “Come on! Let’s go!”

Ten minutes later, Jaime and Bronn were bombing it down the road in the latter’s pink Mini Cooper, barely stopping to avoid children, old ladies, or pet dogs.

“Sorry!” Jaime had to keep screaming out of the window at people Bronn had nearly killed as they raced down the road.

“Shut up!” ordered Bronn. “Don’t they know we’ve got somewhere important to be?”

As Bronn made an illegal move onto the dual carriageway, Jaime checked his watch. It was 8:30. Knowing that once they got there he would have very little time, Jaime got his anti-chafing cream out of his pocket, stuck his hand down his shorts, and started to apply it to the inside of his thighs.

“Fucking hell, Jaime!” Bronn shouted when he noticed what he was doing. “Can you please stop having a wank in my car? I know you miss Brienne, but this is ridiculous!”

Jaime tutted. “I’m not having a wank. I’m just applying my anti-chafing cream.”

Bronn looked very relieved. “Thank god for that.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “Remember, you’ve also got to apply it to your nipples. Nipple chafing is real.”

“Ooh yeah, thanks.”

Clearly, Bronn regretted giving Jaime that advice thirty seconds later when Jaime took off his _Erectile Dysfunction _t-shirt and began applying the cream with a little too much care to his nipples. Bronn just snorted. “Now we look like we’re filming some really weird sort of gay porno in here.”

“I don’t think we’ll get much of an audience,” said Jaime mildly, making sure the cream was firmly rubbed in. “I distinctly remember Renly saying he didn’t fancy you.”

“Yeah, maybe Renly won’t like it,” conceded Bronn. “But I think if you’d gone around to Brienne’s this morning, taken off your top, and asked for help applying your anti-chafing cream, she’d have had a hard time saying no.”

Jaime let out a sad little laugh. “Hyle might have punched me though.”

“Yeah, well. That bastard has always seen you as a threat.”

Bronn kept his foot fully on the throttle until they got to the Tower of London at 8:50. There, they discovered that the road leading across Tower Bridge was shut to everyone bar pedestrians and, consequently, this was as far as the Mini Cooper could go.

“Sorry mate,” said Bronn. “I’m going to have to leave you here.”

Absurdly, Jaime felt a lump bloom in his throat. “Thanks, Bronn. Thanks for everything.”

Bronn smiled. “Don’t mention it. I know you’re going to smash it.”

“You think?” asked Jaime, suddenly a little unsure.

“Of course,” replied Bronn. “After all, I want to go on holiday to Barbados.”

Jaime chuckled. “I’ll do my best.”

There was a moment of lingering warmth before Bronn patted Jaime on the shoulder. “You haven’t got much time. You best get going.”

“Sure, I’ll see you later.”

“You’ll be able to spot me in the crowd of spectators because I’ll have a t-shirt with your ugly mug on it,” Bronn laughed.

“Better than _Erectile Dysfunction UK,_” joked Jaime, before slamming the door of the Mini Cooper and turning in the direction of bridge.

_I’ve only got ten minutes, _he thought, _let’s hope I can sprint._

* * *

Jaime skidded into the little marquee on the other side of Tower Bridge to register as a runner at exactly 8:59, meaning he was allowed to enter the race.

“Next time,” said the imperious registrar with the name badge saying _Mr Luwin, _“please try to be here a little earlier.”

“Of course,” gasped Jaime, trying to get his breath back. “Anything. Anything.”

The race itself did not start until 9:30, so once Jaime had his number pinned to his back, he went out into the main holding pen where the runners were kept in order to complete all the stretches that Loras had taught him. He was halfway through doing some hamstring sweeps when he heard a voice behind him.

“Jaime?”

Turning around, Jaime’s mouth fell open in shock when he saw Ros dressed in full running gear, wearing a charity top labelled _Streetlights._

“Ros?” he said incredulously. “Are you running the marathon?”

“Yeah,” she grinned, “but I didn’t know you were, otherwise I would have suggested we go and run away from unfit security guards together.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not unfit anymore.”

“So I see,” she smiled mischievously. “I noticed you’ve got a lot quicker at catching me, and I must say your arse looks very fetching in those jogging shorts.”

Jaime laughed. “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.” He could have sworn Ros blushed at that.

“So,” she teased, “_Erectile Dysfunction UK? _Is it a cause close to your heart? Because, if so, I might be a little less interested.”

“It’s a very worthwhile cause,” said Jaime honestly, a smile dancing on his lips, “but I can’t say it’s affected me personally. What about you? _Streetlights?_”

Ros seemed a little tense at the mention of her charity. “It helps former prostitutes get off the streets and into education. It’s worked for a couple of people I know.”

“That’s a great cause,” Jaime affirmed, which helped make Ros look more relaxed. “I now work with the Citizens Advice Bureau, and I’m not sure it is one of our affiliated charities. Maybe when you next come into the shop, I can give you my boss Davos’ email and you can get connected. It would mean we could turn over people who come to us for advice to _Streetlights _if it is so needed.”

Ros looked monumentally touched at that statement. “That would be lovely, Jaime. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he said, surprised that he and Ros could have a normal conversation.

She gave him a little smile, but then said, “I’ve got to go off and finish my stretches now, but I wish you all the luck for the race.”

“You too,” Jaime replied. “We can compare times next week.”

She nodded. “We’ll both do great. Remember what I said.”

“What?”

“Run, Fat Knight, Run!” she giggled. “I know you can do it!”

Jaime blushed. “Thanks. I suppose I’ll see you next week when you come into Ellaria’s shop for your weekly batch of love eggs.”

“You betcha,” she grinned, before giving him a little wave and heading off to a slightly clearer area in order to do some lunges.

After Ros had gone, Jaime took ten more minutes to complete the whole warm-up that Loras had given him, before deciding to make his way in the direction of the starting line. He had been told he was in Group 3, so went to find that little cordoned off area for his group. Wanting a little moment to himself before the race started, Jaime’s heart fell when he saw a brown-haired, brown-eyed demon waiting in the pen for him. Their eyes met, and the man gave Jaime a look that a hungry lion might give a baby zebra.

“Hyle.”

“Jaime.” There was an awkward pause, before Hyle said, “I like the T-shirt.”

Looking down at his chest emblazoned with the words _Erectile Dysfunction UK, _Jaime gave him a tight smile. “It’s a worthwhile cause. I’m proud to be representing them. Do you know that erectile dysfunction will affect one in five men during their lifetime?”

“Including you?” smirked Hyle.

“I was going to ask you the same question.”

At that moment, a man with a whistle and a clipboard came over and shouted, “Group 3? Please follow me this way. We’re going to get you set up by the starting line.”

Jaime and Hyle walked in absolute silence as they were led from their little pen to the starting point of the race. Once there, Jaime got a good look at the area. They were standing underneath a sign that said "THE RIVERRUN RIVER RUN, SPONSORED BY THE TULLY CORPORATION". There was also a massive screen on which Jaime could see the aging marathon runner turned sports commentator, Barristan Selmy, interviewing Catelyn Tully.

“Can you tell us a little about the race?” asked Barristan.

“Of course,” smiled Catelyn. “The River Thames has always been very close to my heart, so the Riverrun River Run aims to wend its way along the river while giving the runners the chance to see many of the most beautiful sights in London. They’ll cross over five of London’s most famous bridges – Tower Bridge, London Bridge, Cannon Street Bridge, Southwark Bridge, and the Millennium Bridge – taking in sights such the City of London, the Gherkin, the Walkie Talkie, the Shard, the Globe, the Tower of London, and finally, St Paul’s Cathedral, where the race finishes.”

“That sounds great,” replied Barristan. “And can you tell us a bit about the competitors this year?”

“As ever, the Riverrun River Run consists mostly of amateur racers, but there are a number of competitors who are professionals who use this race as a training for the Olympic or Commonwealth Games. This year, the racers from both Ethiopia and Kenya look very strong.”

“Thanks Cat,” interrupted Barristan suddenly, “but it is now time for us to go live to the race itself for our listeners both along the river today and watching at home. The race is about to start!”

Just ahead, Jaime could see a man lining up along the side of the track, ready to aim a starting gun in the air. He only stopped watching him when Hyle spoke.

“I would say good luck," he began, "but there’s no point. There’s no way in hell you are going to finish this race.”

“You think?” asked Jaime, Brienne’s face suddenly coming into his mind’s eye. “I’m sorry to say that you are going to be severely disappointed.”

“We’ll see,” said Hyle darkly.

Just then, Jaime’s attention was once again drawn by the race itself, as the man holding the gun had just started speaking into his microphone.

“On your marks, get set…”

BANG!

“And the race is on!” cried Barristan Selmy over the loudspeakers. “It’s a beautiful day for a race today, so I and the Tully family wish every competitor the best of luck.”

_I don’t, _thought Jaime nastily, _I hope Hyle trips up and falls flat on his face._

For the first few minutes, Jaime and Hyle ran next to each other not saying a word. Jaime was thankful for that; Loras had advised him to concentrate on his own race and not try to compete with anyone else after all. He worked on trying to develop his own rhythm and make sure he was not dragging his feet; he needed to conserve as much energy as possible, after all. However, once they got halfway across Tower Bridge, Hyle had other ideas.

“Thanks for taking Gal so many times these past couple of weeks,” he said, giving a fake smile. “It’s been a real help.”

Jaime tried to keep his suspicion from his face when he responded. “That’s fine. I want to be useful to Brienne.”

Hyle smirked. “It _has _helped her. It’s given her a lot more time to get important stuff done; you know, cleaning the house, helping Gal with his homework… sucking me off. That kind of thing.”

“What?” replied Jaime, snapping his head round.

Hyle just grinned at him, his smile like a knife. “Have a good race!” Not waiting a moment longer, Hyle put his years of running training to good use and began to pick up his pace quite considerably.

_I’m not having any of his bullshit, _thought Jaime venomously.

Ignoring Loras’ long standing advice to keep his pace steady as possible for the whole twenty-six miles, Jaime broke into a light sprint, determined to keep up with Brienne’s shit of a fiancé. When he caught him, Jaime spoke again.

“Isn’t it enough for you?”

“What?” asked Hyle, looking genuinely perplexed.

“That you’ve got Brienne,” replied Jaime, trying not to let the incredible emotion he felt for her break through in his voice. “She’s marrying you. Isn’t that enough? Why do you need to keep rubbing it in my face?”

Hyle pretended to think about it. “Two reasons mostly. Firstly, I like winning, and you are just _so _easy to beat.” If he hadn’t been so committed to keeping up with Hyle, Jaime would have used his energy to punch him. “And secondly, I think it is about time that you realise that you and Brienne are over.”

Jaime remembered what he had said to Brienne the night before, the words almost louder than Hyle’s voice: _It will be so much easier for us to stop hurting each other when you finally admit that we are not, and never have been, over._

“You think?” scoffed Jaime. “What makes you say that?”

Hyle turned to look at him. “Because if you _don’t _accept it, it’s going to be very hard for you when Brienne, Gal, and I move to San Francisco.”

Jaime’s heart dropped into his stomach and he nearly tripped over his own feet. “What?” he asked icily.

“Oh yes,” said Hyle breezily. “I’ve been invited to manage the opening of a new branch of _Quiet Isle _in Bayview. I’ll have to move there, and my new wife and stepson will be coming with me. Development will take five years minimum, and by then Gal will probably be well established at school, so it would be better to settle permanently.”

If Jaime’s breath was already short because of the running, now it was as if a herd of rhinos were stampeding over his lungs, stopping him breathing. As it stood, Brienne and Gal only lived a few roads away and they already felt as distant as the moon, but if they went to San Francisco? Jaime might as well be dead.

“You can’t do this to me,” gasped Jaime. “You can’t take my family away from me.”

Hyle outright laughed at that. “Well, guess what? I already have.” Wanting to end the conversation on a smart line, Hyle moved to pick the pace up once more, but Jaime was determined not to let him have this small victory.

“You are a cruel, petty, vindictive, smug bastard, you know that, don’t you?” Jaime spat, drawing level with Hyle once more.

“I might be,” replied Hyle, “but I’m also a winner. And that’s all that matters.”

_Not necessarily, _thought Jaime.

“Oh, yeah?” he shouted. “You want to bet?”

One of the few things that Brienne had labelled as one of Hyle’s plus points all that time ago when Jaime had asked her what she saw in her new boyfriend was the fact he ran marathons for blind children in Malawi. Marathon running made Hyle feel like a victor.

_Well, what if hopeless little Jaime Lannister beats him?_

If Jaime had been in a light sprint before, now he began to bomb it down the road, pushing the runners in front of him out of the way. Hyle rapidly noticed what Jaime was attempting to do and copied instantly, so they were once against level.

“Woah, slow down there!” laughed Hyle cruelly. “Not that long ago you were still a little chubby.”

Jaime snarled at him. “Yeah, I was, but I can lose the weight. You’ll always be an arsehole.”

When Hyle didn’t have anything to come back with, Jaime used the opportunity to push ahead by a few paces, which clearly infuriated his rival. Not wanting to be outdone, Hyle joined Jaime in a full bodied sprint and they began charging down the road together.

Distantly, Jaime could hear the voice of Barristan Selmy over the loudspeakers, commenting on the race. “Well… we seem to have a new challenge to the Ethiopians and the Kenyans. Two amateur runners are approaching from the back, who seem to be running a race entirely between themselves.”

At that point, Jaime and Hyle burst into the crush of professional runners at the head of the race. Feeling only a little guilty for pushing over two racers from Djibouti and Norway, Jaime managed to keep ahead of Hyle as they surged out ahead of the rest of the pack, which only seemed to enrage his rival.

“What are you trying to prove?” shouted Hyle from a step behind Jaime. “She doesn’t love you anymore. She thinks this you are a pathetic waste of space who can’t even be there for his son. What do you think you are going to achieve by doing this?”

“I’m not doing this for her! I’m doing this for me!” growled Jaime through gritted teeth, even though he knew that was only half true.

“Oh yeah?” snorted Hyle, even as his breath was heavy from exertion. “You can barely disguise how you still pant over her. Nobody likes an ex who they secretly suspect is still at home wanking over them.”

It was such a pathetic attempt to rile him that Jaime could only let out a breath of laughter. “My, my, Hyle, it almost sounds like you see me as a threat.”

“I do _not_,” spat Hyle, lunging forward to try and get to Jaime. However, Jaime was too quick for him and he swerved to the right, laughing as he did so.

“What’s the matter, Hyle?” chuckled Jaime, “can’t keep up?”

Perhaps it was that he swerved, or the mocking tone in his voice, or that he was laughing, but whatever it was that Jaime did, it made Hyle see red. Jaime only realised his rival’s plan when it was too late. Letting out an enraged little roar, Hyle drew up behind him and kicked his right leg forward, swinging it in order to swipe Jaime and knock him straight off his feet. Jaime fell to the floor instantly, hitting the ground several times before bouncing across the rock hard tarmac. The remaining professional runners were on him in an instant, and Jaime had to curl up into a little ball to totally avoid the stampede.

“Oh my lord! There’s been a pile up!” came Barristan Selmy’s voice very far away. “Several professional runners are down, and one of our daring amateurs!”

Once the pile up had been cleared, Jaime realised that he was in quite a bit of pain, Looking down in horror, he saw both his knees were scraped and there was blood running down both legs. The bigger problem, however, was his left ankle, which was already ballooning hideously.

“Shit,” spat Jaime, reaching down to grasp at the swelling. Although distracted by pain, suddenly he remembered that bastard Hyle and, looking back up, Jaime saw that his nemesis had managed to escape the crush. Hyle was now jogging gently further up the road, shooting a nasty grin back over his shoulder.

“Bye Jaime,” he called spitefully. “What did I tell you? Men like you can’t climb mountains.”

Jaime wanted to shout something back, but then he found he was surrounded by St John’s Ambulance staff, all of whom wanted to look at his knee. “I think you have a badly sprained ankle,” said a dark haired volunteer. “I think that’s the marathon over for you.”

Jaime’s stomach did a nasty little swoop. “But I can’t…”

She smiled at him. “It’s alright. You made it one mile. That’s not nothing.”

_One mile, _the thought sadly, _I did that on one of my first training sessions._

Just then, he heard Barristan Selmy’s voice over the loudspeaker once again. “And it seems we have a victor in a battle of these two new star racers, as one has sadly fallen on the field. His race will end at St Paul’s Hospital, rather than St Paul’s Cathedral.”

_Oh fuck, _thought Jaime. _He’s talking about me._

_My race is over._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I love to know what you think of this story (Hyle hate is especially welcome), so please leave comments and kudos!
> 
> Next chapter... sometimes, you just need squad goals...


	20. Riverrun River Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime gets knocked down, so he gets back up again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for the cliffhanger last time, but I hope you enjoy the resolution here. If you are enjoying my story, please consider leaving me comments and kudos. I love it!

It turned out that the dark-haired St John’s Ambulance volunteer who was trying to convince Jaime that running one mile and then being tripped by your arch-nemesis was in some way respectable, was called Talisa.

“I think it’s probably best we get you to St Paul’s Hospital,” she said. “This looks quite nasty. There might be actual ligament or tendon damage.”

“No,” Jaime moaned, pushing her hand away. “I can’t go to the hospital! I’ve got to keep running.”

She let out a little laugh that sounded pitying. “That’s really not a good idea.”

Even as she was saying it, Jaime was using the shoulder of the second St John’s Ambulance volunteer to push himself up onto his feet. “I don’t care. I’m the king of impulsive and bad decisions. I’m going to run this race.”

Talisa looked sceptically at the other volunteer. “I really would advise against that, but if you _insist _there is nothing we can do to stop you.”

“Good,” huffed Jaime, finally standing up to his full height while putting the bare minimum weight on his left foot. “Because I’m running this goddamn motherfucking race even if it kills me.”

Talisa looked at him a little bit confusedly, but then said, “okay, but maybe we should try and strap up that ankle for you.”

“No,” said Jaime firmly. “I’m not a whiny little bitch.”

Twenty minutes later and another mile along the route, Jaime was having to re-evaluate that statement, wishing that he had perhaps taken up Talisa’s offer to bandage his ankle, because it was bloody killing him.

“Fuck… shit… bollocks… bastards…” his whispered, every time he had to put any sort of weight on it.

_This is all mind over matter, _he told himself, _Loras said the hardest bit about running a marathon is mentally overcoming it, not physically._

In that moment, he thought Loras had never been more right about anything, because Jaime found it increasingly difficult to run because of how demoralised he felt when a whole stream of people, young and old, overtook him with relative ease. Beside the enthusiastic cheering exercise nuts, Jaime also noticed a one-legged military veteran jog past, and later a woman who must have been in her seventies. Jaime only really appreciated how slowly he must be going when a man dressed as the Leaning Tower of Pisa cantered past, giving him a cheery wave as he did so.

Nevertheless, he kept running.

_Think what an achievement this will be, _he thought. _Gal will be so proud._

Jaime managed to keep in that frame of mind for another half a mile before he pulled over to the side to stop, mostly just to poke at his ankle and swear.

_Come on Jaime, _he told himself, _don’t let Hyle beat you. You can climb this mountain._

He was just about to set off again when he heard a voice from behind him.

“Jaime?” Turning around, he was surprised to see Ros. Her cheeks were a little red and she had a light bead of sweat trickling down her forehead, but other than that looked as if she was coping well with the marathon.

“Ros,” he smiled. “How’s it going?”

“Great,” she said, looking him up and down with concern. “But what the fuck happened to you?”

Jaime grimaced. “I got tripped over by my ex’s psycho fiancé, didn’t I? He’s always had it in for me.”

“What a bastard,” said Ros, her nose wrinkling.

“Tell me about it.”

There was then a beat of silence before Ros asked, “are you giving up?”

“Fuck no,” Jaime laughed, but the sudden movement made him wince. “It’s just my ankle. I need a moment.”

At the indication of how much pain he was in, Ros looked down at his ankle, a concerned expression on her face. “You should strap that up properly. You might then be able to put a little weight on it at least.”

Jaime sighed. Apparently, he’d gone from whiny little bitch to hard macho man in the space of two miles, and neither approach worked very well when dealing with pain management. Consequently, when Ros asked him if he’d like to borrow one of her bandages from her portable first aid kit, he accepted in a moment.

Once she had helped him bandage up his ankle, which then felt marginally better, she said, “do you want me to stay with you?”

“No,” Jaime smiled. “Don’t worry about me. You go. I don’t want to screw up your time.”

“Are you sure?” she asked again.

“Yeah, positive. Good luck.”

She nodded. “You too. Show that bastard who knocked you down that you can get back up again.”

“I will do,” he grinned.

Ros went to go, but then stopped and pulled out her phone. “Before I leave… smile Jaime, you need a photo of this.” He did as he was told, but once she had snapped the photo, he looked at her quizzically, unsure of what the point of this was. Moving to stand next to him, she showed him her phone, opened her twitter and began to type:

#RiverrunRiverRun #JaimeLannister #KnockedOverByPsycho #SprainedAnkle #StillRunning #StillSmiling #StillSexyAF #RunFatKnightRun

The photo of Jaime – complete with a smile, bloody knees, and a bandaged ankle – was then posted alongside it.

“Just a little motivation,” she teased, before turning and jogging away. “See you at the finish line!”

“Run, Ros, Run!” he called after her.

Jaime watched her for as long as he could, until she disappeared into the crowd of runners. Then, putting one foot in front of the other, he continued his own race.

_I can do this, _he told himself. _I can do this._

* * *

Jaime realised his race was not going optimally when he narrowly missed getting shat on by a bird somewhere around mile four.

Jaime realised his race was going badly when two men dressed as the conjoined front and bank end of a panto horse overtook him.

Jaime realised his race was going _really _badly when the only person behind him was the man driving the safety car, which signalled the very end of the pack of runners.

“Fuck,” muttered Jaime, feeling tired as well as in pain. Given the awkward angle he was shuffling along the road at, he now had an ache in his right hip. In one respect it was a good thing, as it kept him distracted from his ankle and his knees, but in another it just made him feel like a cripple.

Jaime had been aiming to get his race run in about four and a half hours, but he knew he had no hope when by one o’clock he was only nine miles in. It didn’t help that people were laughing at him; he could have sworn that there were several onlookers who took photos of him from their comfortable position on the pavement. He also thought he heard someone shout “Run, Fat Knight, Run” at him once, but then he convinced himself he must be hearing things.

Around two o’clock his body really started slowing down. He was so unbelievably hot, every single part of him ached, and his brain was screaming at him to just lay on the floor and die a peaceful death. He was serious considering acquiescing to that demand when he heard a voice.

“Come on Jaime, you can do this!”

There was then a little _vroom _sound as Olenna Tyrell appeared next to him on her mobility scooter, with Bronn standing up on the back. Jaime was very confused; earlier in the day the Tully Corporation had been very strict about who could enter the course, but then he realised that he was so far behind all the other contestants that the advertisements that lined the route were being put away and the food vendors had gone home. The safety car driver just gave him a bored shrug.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” panted Jaime, his lungs burning.

Olenna smiled. “Of course you can. Run and live and take revenge, that’s all there is to do in life.”

_Take revenge, _thought Jaime distantly, _I’ll kill Hyle when I next see him._

Snapping back into the present, he looked at them both. “How did you know I was at the back?”

Bronn gave a little smile. “Turns out, me and your favourite shoplifter follow the same people on twitter.”

“Really?” Jaime asked, surprised.

“Yeah, apparently her and Shae are old friends, and Shae retweeted her post.”

“And as you’ve gone what you young people call _viral,_” said Olenna, “we felt the need to become your celebrity trainers.”

“Viral?” said Jaime confusedly.

Bronn smirked, “oh, only amongst the twits who follow all this marathon stuff. People have been posting pictures of you. They’re all just laughing at the bloke who has decided to have a shot at shuffling for twenty-six miles instead of running.”

“Piss off,” growled Jaime.

“I won’t piss off,” chuckled Bronn, “because I’m your trainer. So keep those knees up!”

“I can’t…” Jaime began to moan, but then there was a whistle of air, a thwacking sound, and a stinging pain across his arse.

“OW!”

“Keep your knees up!” Olenna ordered, wielding the spatula proudly in her hands. “It will stop any deferred pain.”

“I don’t care about deferred pain!” he cried. “I hurt all over anyway.”

Bronn rolled his eyes. “Always the whiny little bitch.”

It was just him, Bronn, and Olenna for another mile until the cavalry turned up. Loras and Renly appeared on a tandem bicycle, while Sansa zoomed past on a scooter. All three had t-shirts with his face printed on them with ERECTILE DYSFUNCTION UK written over the top.

“Thanks for this,” said Jaime sarcastically when he saw them. “This is just what I needed to lift my spirits.”

“Our pleasure,” chirped Sansa, handing over matching t-shirts for Bronn and Olenna.

The idea that Jaime had problems getting it up was only promoted even further when Margaery arrived on a bicycle with the massive JAIME LANNISTER – ERECTILE DYSFUNCTION sign from the party, draped over her shoulders.

Not long after, Tyrion and Tysha turned up on segways.

“Has this just turned into the competition as to who can arrive on the most ridiculous form of transport?” asked Jaime, almost expecting Brienne to canter in on a horse next.

“I’m sorry,” chided Tyrion, “I’m just here to give my big brother my support.”

Support was not the only thing that Jaime got from his newly assembled group of followers, however, as just as it started to get a little darker, Euron and his heavies decided to make their appearance. With twenty thousand pounds at stake, they had skin in the game, and consequently kept trying to put him off.

“Come on Jaime,” laughed Asha, “you can’t do this!”

“Piss off Asha!” shouted Bronn in return. “He can do anything he wants!”

“Not run a marathon though, and especially not on one leg!” smirked Euron.

_Yes, I can, _Jaime kept telling himself, _I can do anything I want._

Things only got really weird, though, at half past four, when Barristan Selmy arrived with a camera crew and a make-up artist. Coming to stand next to Jaime, he turned to the camerawoman.

“How does my face look, Irri? Not too shiny?”

“Not too shiny,” she said, as suddenly the red light on the camera came on.

“Hello, and welcome to London Sport Live,” began Barristan, grinning at his millions of viewers he could not see. “As you are all aware, today at the studio we’ve been inundated with tweets and emails about our mystery runner, who went viral this afternoon for his spectacularly poor showing in the Riverrun River Run.”

_Thanks very much, _thought Jaime darkly, as Barristan began to attempt to spin his marathon run as a great, adventurous tale.

“The loneliness of the long-distance runner,” he continued, “a phrase epitomised by this man, Jaime Lannister. For the last fourteen miles, he’s been running on what appears to be a sprained ankle. What a testament to the power of the human spirit! Let’s get some insight from the man himself. Mr Lannister, how do you feel?”

Jaime looked at Barristan incredulously as a microphone was shoved in his face. Gasping, he spluttered, “how the fuck do you think I feel?”

Barristan let out a nervous cough before turning back to the camera and saying, “we apologise for that, dear viewers. Here at London Sport Live we appreciate many of you do not expect that type of language before the watershed, but what can I say? Don’t work with children, animals, or marathon runners!” Barristan let out a weak laugh before looking around at the assembled crowd, hoping to get more out of this story. His eyes landing on Bronn, he took the microphone away from Jaime and pointed it towards the man perched on the back of a mobility scooter. “So, do you know Mr Lannister?”

“Yes,” grinned Bronn proudly. “I’m Bronn Blackwater, his best mate and head coach.”

There was a little grousing from Loras at that, but Bronn didn’t even have the good grace to look slightly guilty, and just beamed at the camera.

Clearly eyeing up a scoop, Barristan said, “ah, wonderful. So can you give us an insight into why Mr Lannister is running the Riverrun River Run today?”

“Yes I can,” said Bronn, puffing himself up as if he were an expert on the matter. “From a purely logistical level, it is because I accidentally dropped a wheelchair on the original representative of _Erectile Dysfunction UK _and Jaime promised to take his place. If we’re talking about life goals, I think Jaime wants to prove he can complete something as amazing as running twenty-six miles.”

“Well,” smiled Barristan, “it is a very great achievement.”

“Of course,” concurred Bronn, “but neither of those are his most important reason.”

Barristan looked curious. “What is?”

Jaime could have punched Bronn for what he then decided to announce to the nation watching at home.

“It’s that’s he’s still crazy, stupid in love with his ex-fiancée. He thinks that by doing this, he can show her he’s no longer the self-pitying, self-hating flake he’s been playing for the past six years and is now actually deserving of her love. It’s his way of saying he wants her back.”

Jaime gave Bronn a horrified look for so casually exposing his heart and, even though he was exhausted, tried to say something to him, but Sansa beat him to it. Jumping up so she was in the camera’s line, she shouted, “come on Brienne! He’s changed! Take him back!”

“Yeah, take him back!” called Renly from the back of the tandem bike, waving his arms about like he was in a rave. “Woooh!”

“Stop doing that,” hissed Loras, “you are going to knock us over.”

Renly just laughed. “I don’t care! True love must win out!”

After finishing his interview with Bronn, Barristan turned to Sansa, who then started effusively telling him that Jaime and Brienne were both being totally blind and should just open their hearts again. “I get that it’s hard sometimes, to trust again, but what is life and love without a little risk?”

“That’s very true.”

“Thank you,” said Sansa, a blush coming to her cheeks. “But Brienne is just so stubborn. It’s clear she still loves him very much to absolutely everyone.” There was a mumble of agreement at that which made Jaime immensely happy. “They even had a conversation only last night which got a bit tense and angsty, but I just saw them together and knew instantly that they are still in love with each other. You can’t hide that sort of emotion, you know? It just seems really silly to me that they don’t give it another go. I mean… I know she has Hyle…”

“Who’s Hyle?” asked Barristan intrigued. Jaime tried to wave at Sansa to get her to shut up, knowing her badmouthing him could cause some real problems for Brienne if Hyle ever saw the footage, but she wasn’t listening.

Sansa wrinkled her nose. “Brienne’s fiancé, but it’s so clear he’s not right for her because he just doesn’t let her be an independent person. We all agree, don’t we?” As everybody voiced their agreement, Jaime made sure to add his own exhausted sounding _yeah _into the mix.

Even after Hyle had been publicly eviscerated by Sansa – “do you know what coercive control is, Barristan? If not, you should look it up!” – it seemed Barristan wanted more. Quite embarrassingly for Jaime, he did not stop with Sansa’s extraordinary tale, but began a tour of all the people gathered around Jaime who knew him, and they all started telling him their version of the Jaime/Brienne story.

“I mean, I was really cross with him when he left her two days before the wedding,” said Renly, “but sometimes you’ve just got to let these things go, haven’t you, so your best friend can be happy. If you can’t take a chance on love, what can you take a chance on?”

“I was really sceptical when my grandma first asked me to be his trainer,” Loras said, “I thought he was flaky and rude. But he really proved me wrong, and it’s clear he loves Brienne from the bottom of his heart right to the top.”

“I’m his brother, and it will take me several days to list all the times he’s come round to mine and Tysha’s for dinner and ended up crying over the fact Brienne won’t take him back, won’t even think about taking him back.”

“He’s finally paid back all the rent he owes me,” Margaery chimed in, “so I’m his number one fan. Take him back, Brienne!”

Olenna smiled sagely. “He’s turning his life around, trying to be a better man. Hopefully Brienne can see that.”

The last person Barristan interviewed was Euron, who just shrugged and said, “I don’t even know this bird, and even I can tell he’s utterly mad about her. She’s all he bloody talks about when he comes to _The Piano Shop._”

After Barristan had got the testimonies of all members of Jaime’s support group and Euron’s heavies, he turned back to the camera. “This is Barristan Selmy reporting for London Sport Live,” he said, putting his fingers on his earpiece through which he heard orders from his bosses. “I believe that… now… it seems Missandei has some information on how Mr Lannister became the one-legged marathon runner we all know and love for our viewers. Back to the Studio.”

The little red light on Irri’s camera flicked off, and then everyone was upon Barristan, asking him questions about how many viewers the show had, were they now all going to be famous, would the Jaime segment be shown uncut, would…

However, Jaime couldn’t hear anything at all.

Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. It was as if his lungs had been attacked by thousands of scurrying, itching ants, and it felt like he was being cut with a thousand knives every time he tried to gasp for air. His head was throbbing, worse than any hangover, and he thought it might be a better idea just to cut off his left leg than continue running on it.

He staggered to a halt. “I can’t… I can’t…”

Bronn leapt off the back of Olenna’s mobility scooter and was next to him in a second. “Yes, Jaime. Yes you can.”

“I can’t,” Jaime gasped, trying everything in his power to stay on his feet and not drop on the floor. “I’ve got to stop… I’ve got to stop… It hurts too much…”

Euron let out a burst of euphoric laughter. “Yes! Bronn, you owe me twenty thousand pounds!” Bronn wasn’t listening however; he had grabbed Jaime by the shoulders and was shaking him slightly.

“You can’t stop. You are nearly there.”

“I _can_ stop,” mumbled Jaime, his whole body ordering to do so. Distantly, a small voice that sounded very much like Brienne told him to carry on and stop whinging. Momentarily ashamed, he asked, “how much further?”

Bronn tried to look encouraging, but he only managed to arrange his features in a bitter grimace. “Only a teeny-tiny, almost insubstantial… nine miles.”

_Nine miles, _thought Jaime, _what’s a little nine miles?_

He took two more steps, trying to prove to himself that he could do it, but he felt like the soles of his feet were being stabbed repeatedly by shards of invisible glass.

“I can’t… I can’t…”

From somewhere very far away, he heard Loras’ voice. “Oh no…”

“What?” asked Renly.

“He’s hit it.”

“Hit what?”

“The Wall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Once again, I stole some dialogue (mainly for Barristan) but I hope you enjoyed it. As ever, I luuurrrvvveee comments and kudos!
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime hits the Wall.


	21. The Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime crashes into the Wall...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thanks for coming back! This chapter is a little shorter than usual and, because the next one is probably going to take me a bit longer than usual, I thought I'd give you this one now. It's a bit weird, but I hope you enjoy it; please let me know in the comments!

Everything was silent.

Where moments before there had been lots of people crowded around him – cheering him, supporting him, interviewing him – now there was no one.

And it was as quiet as the grave.

“Hello?” he called, turning around to look at the spot where Loras and Renly had been only moments before. They were gone.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he decided to spin back around and at least point in the direction he was meant to be running. However, moving on any further was impossible as he suddenly found there was a giant wall blocking his path. It was so tall he could not see the top, and it was made of a thick layer of ice, so cold it was almost blue. Flattening his palm against the side, he realised it was frozen to touch, and holding his fingers there too long just burnt them, so he drew his hand away.

“Hello?” he said again, hoping to find someone to explain.

_Where is everybody?_

“Are you looking for me?” came a voice as soft as silk.

Jaime turned around to face her, all the hairs on his arms standing on their ends. It was getting darker, yet even so her golden hair shone brightly, and her eyes were bright. She smiled at him and it made his blood run cold.

“Cersei?” he asked incredulously. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in jail.”

She rolled her eyes. “I _am _in jail, and so are you.”

“No I’m not,” he said uneasily, not sure where she was going with this.

“Really?” she asked sceptically, raising an eyebrow, “then why are you stuck behind a wall?”

He shook his head as if to shake out all his uncertainties about what was in front of him. “It’s not just me. You are stuck here too.” Jaime was sad about that, because he did not want to be trapped with her.

Cersei’s green eyes flashed, familiar and arrogant. “_We _are not here, Jaime. This is your darkness.”

“I want to leave,” he admitted, his voice betraying his panic, “I don’t want to be here with you.”

Cersei stepped forward. Jaime stepped back. She smiled, all teeth and venomous superiority. “But how can you leave? There’s no way through. You cannot go from here, because you are always the same. Always Jaime Lannister; always stupid, always addicted, always scared. Nothing ever changes. We are two halves of a whole and you can never escape me.”

“I can,” Jaime said firmly. "There is always a way.”

“Is there?”

Suddenly, there was a sword in Cersei’s hand, and she lifted it up above her head. In one swift motion, she swung it down towards him as if to strike him, but Jaime caught her wrist first and it went clattering to the ground. Even as the horror of her defeat dawned on her features he did not let go, but his touch melted from anger to softness. Cersei reached out and pressed her fingers to his cheek.

“Come at once,” she breathed, her voice quiet as if she was speaking to him from very far away, crackling like a long forgotten answer phone message. “Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.”

He dropped her wrist.

“Never.”

Her eyes went wide. “Jaime…”

“Leave me alone, Cersei. I’m not the man you once knew.”

When he let go, she retreated from him, sinking into the darkness and becoming a shadow. It was only fitting. In her absence, Jaime picked up the abandoned sword and returned to the Wall.

_What is beyond here? Who is beyond here?_

Lifting the sword he began to strike at the ice, stabbing and thrusting and lunging as he cut away little chunks. With every slash and stab, the sword grew blunter and blunter, but he soon succeeded in carving a small hole through the centre of the wall big enough that, if he stood on his tip toes, he could see through. Peering through the small gap, Jaime saw nothing but an iridescent blue light, too bright to look at directly. It took some time for him to adjust his eyes so he could even make out the shape that danced in the light, but once he recognised her outline there was no doubt who he saw.

It was Brienne. In this light she was a beauty. In this light she was a knight.

She wore a suit of armour so perfectly tailored to her that her measurements must have been taken by a lover, who knew her body inside and out. Her expression was stoic, measured, but it seemed something altogether more magnificent because of the way her sapphire eyes reflecting the deep blue flames emanating from her sword.

“Brienne!” he shouted, hoping he could hear even though there was a giant wall of ice that separated them. “Brienne! I’m over here! Please! Can you see me?”

At the sound of his voice she looked up, her eyes training on him in a moment. Jaime had not known what to expect from her – love, hate, anger, doubt – but it was not the heavy weight of disappointment that now clouded her features. Lowering her sword, she shook her head at him, before turning away, seeking to follow Cersei into the shadows.

“No, Brienne,” he called, trying to reach through the gap in order to touch her. “Brienne… stay with me, please… Stay.”

She looked back at him, her eyes sad.

“You did not stay with me, even though I begged,” she said, her voice filled with tears. “I was not worth it.”

Jaime’s cheeks were warm with tears. “That’s not true, I would give the world for another chance. Please Brienne, stay with me.”

“No,” she said firmly, her blush visible in the light from her sword. “If you want to change, you cannot ask that of me. You must just choose to stay with _me._”

“I’ll stay with you,” he promised wildly. “Let me stay with you! Always, Brienne. Forever. Please let me stay.”

She closed her eyes and when she did so, the light of her sword went out and he could no longer see her. Nevertheless, he could still hear her voice.

_Stay with me, please… Stay._

_Stay with me, please… Stay._

_Stay with me, please… Stay._

It was no choice. Throwing his blunted sword to the ground, he began to punch and kick at the wall, determined to rip it down to the ground if it meant he could go after his lady and stay with her, live with her, and love her for the rest of her life, for as long as she would have him. With every thump of his fist, tiny cracks began to appear in the ice, and he was so filled with emotion he was sure he could tear it down with his bare hands.

Drawing back, he made to run at it with his shoulder, determined to split it open until it revealed a door, a way through. Every time he hit the wall, a spasm of pain passed through his body, but he did not care. He had to get to her, he had to be with her, or he would never forgive himself.

“I’ll stay with you, Brienne.”

Crack…

“Forever, I’ll stay with you… you and Gal.”

_Crack…_

“I’m yours, always yours…”

_CRACK…_

In an explosion of ice and water, the wall that had separated him and Brienne for so long came tumbling down. Jaime did not even mourn its passing; it had blighted his life for too long. Even so, the wall lay in icy chunks around his feet, still able to hurt him. Lifting his foot, he was careful to avoid the shards which had the power to cut. When Jaime finally planted his foot on solid ground, having taken a whole step forward, he felt a heavy hand slap him on the back.

“YES!” shouted Bronn loudly, so as to alert the people behind him. “He’s moving! He’s moving! Come on! You can do this, Jaime!”

A cheer went up from the assembled crowd as they saw that once again, Jaime Lannister was putting one foot in front of the other and shuffling ever closer towards his goal. Renly and Loras were high-fiving. Euron Greyjoy was swearing. Sansa had a tear in her eye. Margaery was waving her banner. Tyrion and Tysha were hugging. Olenna just looked proud. Barristan Selmy was near incandescent with joy, telling Irri she had to turn the camera on again because this was pure magic.

_Nine miles? _thought Jaime. _That’s nothing._

_Brienne is there._

_Bring me that finish line._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed it! This time was quotes, quotes, quotes, so I hope you had fun spotting them. Comments and kudos would be great :)
> 
> Next time... Jaime is not the only one effected by events at the Riverrun River Run...


	22. The Viewers Back at Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the day of the Riverrun River Run, Brienne has some big decisions to make...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm sorry this one is a bit later than usual, but it is a bit of a monster and I have been low level panicking about it... but I hope you enjoy it. As ever, please level comments and kudos.

On the morning of the Riverrun River Run, Brienne was immensely glad that Hyle had decided to spend the night at the _Quiet Isle, _because if he had been here, in her bed, she didn’t know if she would have had the strength to face him.

Not after everything that Jaime had said last night.

_It will be so much easier for us to stop hurting each other when you final admit that we are not, and never have been, _over.

_For six years, it’s been driving me absolutely mad that I am so close to you and so far away at the same time._

_Why can’t you bring yourself to forgive me? Why can’t you see that I won’t ever be happy with anyone other than you? And you the same for me?_

Jaime had been so wired, his eyes so bright with emotion, talking and talking and talking in the way he had always been prone to do. Why couldn’t he just keep quiet like she had for six years? Why couldn’t he leave things unsaid? Why did he have to drag it all up now, just as she had found Hyle?

_I don’t want to think about Jaime, _she thought.

In her endeavour to do just that, she rolled over to look at Gal, who was sleeping soundly next to her. In Hyle’s absence, he had come creeping into the room in the middle of the night claiming he was having a nightmare, but in truth Brienne just knew he wanted to be close to her. “Come here darling,” she had said, patting the bed beside her, and he had climbed in without complaint, falling asleep almost instantly. In the morning light, Gal looked so very much like his father. Brienne suspected that one day, Gal would be quite handsome, because he had Jaime’s gold hair, his sharp jaw, his perfect nose. Brienne actually found it immensely sad that Gal had inherited her rather average eyes instead of Jaime’s green ones. Brienne had always said they were rather spectacular, after all.

_I don’t want to think about Jaime, _she thought.

Rolling onto her back, she looked up at the ceiling. Brienne tried to think about Hyle. Although there was not necessarily passion in their relationship, he was reliable, always did what he said he would do, and went out of his way to be financially supportive to her and Gal. Hyle had even thrown her a birthday party. Admittedly, not many of her friends had been in attendance, and it was far too swanky for her tastes, but it had been a birthday party, nonetheless. In contrast, Jaime’s idea of a birthday celebration had always been a cupcake that she had made, followed by him spending all evening giving her oral sex until she ended up begging him to stick it where she knew they both wanted it.

In retrospect, they hadn’t been such terrible birthdays.

_I don’t want to think about Jaime, _she thought.

The birthday party Hyle had thrown her had been very nice. There had been perfectly beautiful canapes, lovely music, and she had been gifted a mountain of presents. Of course, Jaime had then decided to start spilling his heart out on the balcony in something that approached an apology, before storming off like a petulant child after Hyle had proposed. Why couldn’t he just be happy for her? Why did he have to make everything so difficult? Why was he always so endlessly infuriating?

Sitting up gently, making sure not to wake Gal, Brienne leant over to her bedside cabinet to open the top drawer. Inside was the present wrapped in reindeer paper that she had purposefully not opened since her party. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to open it, it was just that Brienne knew the second she saw it that it was from Jaime. No one else would give her a gift that looked as if it was a hangover from Christmas, and then not even think to stick on a label to tell her who it was from. While she had opened the rest of her presents with Hyle and Gal – teapots, fruit bowls, and ornaments – she had intended to keep this one until she had a moment alone. And here it was; her moment. Being as quiet as she possibly could, she slid her finger under the fold in the paper in order to rip it open. As expected, Jaime was lousy at wrapping, so the paper came away in a second.

To her surprise, it was a framed photograph. It had been taken at a Halloween party Renly and Loras had held long ago. The theme had been “Famous Couples from History”, and Jaime and Brienne had decided to go as Mark Antony and Cleopatra. While Brienne had felt immensely silly because she felt she had a greater resemblance to the Incredible Hulk than the erstwhile Egyptian queen, she couldn’t begrudge the choice because Jaime had looked… _amazing… _in his Centurion’s outfit. In the photo, she couldn’t see Jaime’s face, because he was holding her in his arms and had his back to the camera, but she was smiling. It had been a brilliant night.

Suddenly, she noticed a little piece of paper lying on her duvet which had clearly fallen out when she had unwrapped Jaime’s present. Tentatively she picked it up, recognising Jaime’s clumsy, messy handwriting in a moment.

_Brienne, _

_I wish I could make you smile like this again. Your smile is brighter than a thousand stars._

_Forever yours, Jaime._

Brienne gulped at the easy intimacy he had managed to weave in a few words, and it hit somewhere soft and tender inside her chest. Her relationship with Jaime had been the happiest time of her life, but he had destroyed it all so casually that she had spent years just hearing hollow platitudes about how much he loved her. How could he claim he loved her after what he had done? Yet, after the way he had been these last two months – changing, confronting, and challenging – in weak moments she sometimes suspected he meant it.

_I don’t want to think about Jaime, _she thought.

After putting Jaime’s present back in the drawer, she got out of bed and went to have a shower, knowing there was no hope that she was going to get to sleep again. Letting the water run over her, she tried to wash that man right out of her hair, as _South Pacific _instructed her, but every time she closed her eyes, she just saw his anguished face.

_I’m not some predator, Brienne. I love you; I love you so much… I just want to be with you… I can’t be apart from you like this anymore…_

For her, being apart from Jaime was just an unfortunate fact of life. It was _him _who had mandated their separation, _him _who had chosen his father, his sister, and the bad old days over her, _him _who had made her go through the utter indignity of telling everyone in the Winterfell Hotel that he had left her. What right did he have making her think this was all her fault?

_I don’t want to think about Jaime, _she thought.

Once she was out of the shower and dressed, she went to pick up her phone. Part of Brienne wanted to message Jaime and apologise for last night; she had yelled all of the darkest thoughts she had had over the past six years straight in his face, and she worried she had revealed too much, that she had exposed the blackest interiors of her soul. After all, she still could not be entirely certain whether her heart would ever be safe in Jaime’s hands. Not wanting to apologise, then, she thought about messaging him to wish him good luck for the marathon, but then she realised she had already done that in person the day before, so she had no excuse to contact him at all.

_I don’t want to think about Jaime, _she thought.

Just then, her phone buzzed. Wondering whether it was Jaime apologising for being totally inappropriate the night before, her heart fell a little when she realised it was just Hyle.

_Hyle: _No _good luck _for your fiancé?

_Shit, _Brienne thought. _I haven’t messaged him. He’s going to be annoyed about this later._

_Brienne: _Sorry darling. I’ve just woken up. Good luck, I’m sure you’ll do fab!

Luckily, at that moment, Gal decided to wake up, so Brienne was able to message Hyle saying she had to get her son ready and didn’t have time to chat. Once Gal was showered and dressed, she went to make him some breakfast while he fiddled around with the TV remote trying to find which channel the marathon run was being broadcast on.

“I think it’s London Sport Live or something,” she said, waiting for the toast to pop up.

After a little bit of searching, Gal eventually found it, and was almost squeaking with delight at the picture of Tower Bridge and the thousands of runners lining up to get ready for the race.

“Do you think Daddy is there yet?” asked Gal.

Brienne checked her watch. “Hopefully,” she replied, “otherwise he’s overslept and is very late.”

A nasty knot suddenly grew in her stomach. She knew what Jaime was like; he was not one of life’s morning people, and she could perfectly imagine him oversleeping, especially after what had passed between them the night before. Maybe she should have set her alarm early, so she could have sent him a text making sure he was awake. He had worked so hard, after all, and she would hate it if he missed out on this big opportunity just because of her…

_I don’t want to think about Jaime, _she thought.

Once she had made the toast for herself and Gal, she put it on two plates and went to cuddle up next to her son to watch the race. He was excitedly scanning the crowds, trying to catch a glimpse of his dad, but to no avail. They watched Barristan Selmy, a former Olympian marathon runner, interviewing various experts about who they thought had the edge this year – the Ethiopians or the Kenyans – and the talk of who had the best victory chances seemed to make Gal give greater consideration to the marathon.

“Who do you want to win?” he piped up. “Daddy or Hyle?”

Jaime’s face came into her mind’s eye. “Who do you want to win?” she asked.

“Daddy of course,” said Gal, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “What about you?”

“Eat your toast,” ordered Brienne, pushing his plate further into his hands. To her immense relief, Gal obeyed.

_I don’t want to think about Jaime, _she thought.

Even though there was a lot of spiel about the race and the competitors, London Sport Live kept Gal’s attention because it kept flicking back to the crowds, and Gal would point at every vaguely blond looking man claiming that was his dad. “No,” Brienne would say, “you dad’s hair is a sort of brighter shade of gold, like yours… and he’s definitely taller and leaner than that man. He’s more… that shaped,” she said, trying to draw the shape of Jaime’s torso to Gal in the air.

Just before the race started, Barristan Selmy interviewed Catelyn Tully, Brienne’s godmother. She started describing the course. “The River Thames has always been very close to my heart, so the Riverrun River Run aims to wend its way along the river whole giving the runners the chance to see many of the most beautiful sights in London. They’ll cross over five of London’s most famous bridges – Tower Bridge, London Bridge, Cannon Street Bridge, Southwark Bridge, and the Millennium Bridge – taking in sights such as the City of London, the Gherkin, the Walkie Talkie, the Shard, the Globe, the Tower of London, and finally, St Paul’s Cathedral, where the race finishes.”

The route was very long, and Brienne wondered if Jaime had done enough training. Hyle had been in preparation for six months after all, whereas Jaime had just decided to give it a shot on a whim two months ago. She had been meaning to ask Loras how he was doing, but because of Hyle’s dislike for her friends, Brienne had not seen him in a while and so she had never got the chance. Jaime was the type who put his heart and soul into anything he really wanted to do, and as he had claimed this was all a ploy to win her respect back, she suspected that he would have done all he could to make himself as ready as this race as possible…

_I don’t want to think about Jaime, _she thought.

BANG!

Brienne was snapped out of her reverie by the sound of the starting gun and watched as the racers from Ethiopia and Kenya easily pushed to the head of the pack.

“Why can’t we see Daddy?” asked Gal confusedly.

Brienne laughed. “I very much doubt your dad is going to overtake the professional athletes.”

In the end, that assumption turned out to be totally false.

About ten minutes into the race, Barristan Selmy let out a surprised little chuckle. “Well… we seem to have a new challenge to the Ethiopians and the Kenyans. Two amateur runners are approaching from the back, who seem to be running a race entirely between themselves.”

Brienne was prepared to laugh, but then her mouth fell open when she spotted which two amateur runners it was that Barristan was referring to. Jaime and Hyle had suddenly come charging out of the main pack before gunning for the professionals. They were in an intense conversation with each other, Jaime’s face red with rage and exertion, and Brienne and Gal could only watch open-mouthed as the two of them charged forward, crashing into runner after runner.

“Is daddy going to win?” Gal asked excitedly, almost jumping up and down in excitement.

“I… I… I…” stammered Brienne.

Then it happened. In a rapid tumble of legs and arms, Jaime stumbled and the whole world seemed to stop as lots of other runners fell on top of each other. “Oh my lord! There’s been a pile up!” cried Barristan Selmy. “Several professional runners are down, and one of our daring amateurs!”

“Jaime!” shouted Brienne, getting to her feet, as Gal jumped up beside her.

In the confusing chaos, Brienne tried to pick Jaime out, but the camera kept moving around and it was very difficult to work out exactly what had happened. A big crowd of the professional runners had moved off, but there were still several getting to their feet. Two St John’s Ambulance volunteers had also run towards the centre of the course and were bundling around someone who was curled up on the floor.

“And it seems we have a victor in a battle of these two new star racers as one has sadly fallen on the field,” said Barristan Selmy, as the course began to clear and Brienne was finally able to see the man on the floor had a shock of gold hair. “His race will end at St Paul’s Hospital, rather than St Paul’s Cathedral.”

“Daddy!” squeaked Gal, his bottom lip wobbling.

Brienne’s phone was out of her pocket in seconds. “Come on Gal, we’re going to get to the hospital and see your dad.”

* * *

As she expected the traffic was abominable as they tried to cross London, and it only made Brienne more and more anxious. Gal was getting really worried about what exactly was wrong with Jaime, and Brienne had to keep reassuring him.

“Don’t worry Gal,” she said, “it’s probably just a broken bone at worst. He’ll probably let you sign his cast!”

Even so, her stomach was in turmoil. She wasn’t quite sure how Jaime would feel about just turning up at his sick bed, especially after last night.

_I don’t care, _she told herself._I need to see that he is alright… and so does Gal._

When Gal started sprinting into the reception of St Paul's Hospital, Brienne used the excuse of chasing him so she, too, could run. By the time she got to the front desk, she was a little out of breath, but she still managed to get her words out. “Hi, is a Jaime Lannister here?”

The receptionist gave her a careful smile. “Are you family?”

“Yes,” replied Brienne, ruffling Gal’s hair.

_I’m only saying it because Jaime thinks I’m his family, _she told herself.

The receptionist began to type on her computer, while Gal stood on his tiptoes so he could peer over the desk. That made the receptionist smile, but after a few moments her grin was replaced by a look of confusion.

“I’m sorry. We don’t have a Jaime Lannister in the database. What would he be in for?”

Furrowing her brow, Brienne said, “he’s the marathon runner? He was injured during the Riverrun River Run?”

“Oh,” said the receptionist smiling once more as she pointed towards the door, “he’s just arrived now.”

“Brienne?” came an incredulous voice from behind her. Spinning around, Brienne’s mouth opened when she saw Hyle being wheeled into the hospital by two paramedics, an amazed look on his face.

“Hyle?” she said, shocked.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked, as the paramedics pushed him across the room.

_I didn’t, _she thought.

“What are you doing here?” she inquired, not answering his question.

He suddenly went very red in the face, his expression contorted by wrath. “That psychopath tripped me. He tripped me! I think I’ve got permanent ligament damage!”

“What psychopath?” she asked stupidly.

He rolled his eyes. “_Jaime, _of course, your psycho ex! He was wild-eyed, crazy… excuse me fellas, can I just talk to my fiancée please?” The two paramedics who were wheeling Hyle through the reception seemed to have no time for his amateur dramatics, however, and they kept pushing his bed onwards towards its unknown destination. “Can I control the bed?” Hyle asked, trying to influence the situation.

“No,” one of them grunted. “We’ve got to go and get you up to the ward to have your scan.”

The pace at which they were moving him meant that he had Hyle did not have time to object anymore, and shouted, “Jellybean, come find me!” before disappearing from view.

Once he was gone, Brienne turned back to the receptionist. “Are you _sure _there is no Jaime Lannister here?”

* * *

After getting several reassurances from the receptionist that there was definitely no Jaime Lannister in the hospital, Brienne gave up and asked her where the best place to wait for Hyle’s scan to finish was. The receptionist directed her up to a little waiting room on the seventh floor, which was only a few doors down from Hyle’s ward. Inside, was a TV, a sofa, a small coffee machine, and a couple of magazines. Brienne instantly turned the TV on, flicking across to London Sport Live, trying to understand what was going on.

“Of course, the most exciting news it that the Ethiopian runner, Khal Drogo, came close to breaking the world record,” Barristan Selmy was saying to his fellow presenter, Missandei.

“Yes,” Missandei grinned. “Khal Drogo is the big hope for the Ethiopians at the upcoming Tokyo Olympics, and to see him on such form is undoubtedly going to be a big relief to their athletics programme.”

Brienne wasn’t interested in world records however but kept scanning the little image of the amateur runners streaming past at the side of the screen, trying to spot the familiar flash of gold that would tell her Jaime was alright.

“Mum,” said Gal, a slight whine entering his voice. “How much longer are we going to be? I haven’t got any toys here, and the lady said that daddy isn’t here.”

“I know sweetheart,” she replied, still not taking her eyes off the screen. “Why don’t you play some games on my phone for a while?” she suggested, bringing her phone out and placing it in Gal’s hands to keep him quiet.

It worked, as for the next hour or so he flicked between the games on her phone, while Brienne kept her eyes fixed on London Sport Live. She was not quite sure what she was waiting for; did she expect Barristan Selmy to pluck Jaime out from the crowd and interview him?

_I just want to know he’s alright, _Brienne thought, before remembering.

_I don’t want to think about Jaime._

Just at that moment, Gal spoke. “Mum, you’ve got a text,” he said, holding her phone out to her. Taking it off him, Brienne noticed it was from Hyle.

_Hyle: _They’ve finished the scans. You can come in and see me.

Somewhat reluctantly leaving the waiting room, Brienne turned the TV off and signalled for Gal that it was time to go in and see Hyle.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Gal, a little confusedly.

“We don’t know yet,” replied Brienne. “Hopefully he’ll get the results of the scans soon.”

When they arrived in the ward, Hyle was sitting up in one of the beds, his left foot raised on a little pillow. He was still wearing his marathon gear and was looking tremendously grumpy at the prospect of staying in the bed for most of the afternoon when he could be finishing his marathon.

“Where have _you _been?” he huffed the second he saw her.

Brienne gave him a tight little smile. “Sorry, we were shuffled into a waiting room and told we couldn’t come in until your scans were done.”

Hyle looked a little ameliorated by that, so Brienne went and sat in the chair next to his bed, while Gal hovered by his bedside cabinet, which was stacked with a lamp, a vase of flowers, and the remote control for the bed. It was a small, easy to use device which the patient could use to lower or raise the bed depending on what angle they liked best.  
  
“So,” sulked Hyle, “aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”

“Yes, of course,” said Brienne, trying to focus on Hyle and not whether she could turn on the TV she had noticed in the corner of the room.

“That crazy ex of yours, that’s what happened,” he said furiously. “When the marathon started, he came up to me and started saying that he was going to get you back, and it was only a matter of time before it happened.”

Brienne could feel herself blushing but tried to suppress it while she spoke to Hyle. “Oh, I’m sure you misunderstood what he said. Jaime knows we are over. There’s no going back.”

_It will be so much easier for us to stop hurting each other when you final admit that we are not, and never have been, _over.

Hyle scoffed. “If you believe that Brienne, you are a fucking idiot.”

“Hyle,” Brienne tried to chastise, “can you please not swear in front of Gal?”

Her fiancé was not listening, however, just looking at her darkly. “I would be worried about him if I were you. The man is obsessed. He thinks that by doing this marathon he can win you back.” It was only then that Brienne spotted Hyle was leaning up closer and closer to her; not of his own volition, mind, but because the bed was moving.

Then, she noticed the little smile on Gal’s face, and the bed controller in his hand.

Clearly ignoring her request to stop swearing and the fact that the bed was moving, Hyle said, “you really need to consider taking out a restraining order on that weirdo, before he escalates to genuine violence. You know he purposefully tripped me so I couldn’t finish my marathon, after I’ve been training for so long?”

Brienne thought that was very doubtful. “Are you sure it wasn’t an accident? The Jaime I know has always been very honourable, and there’s no need for a restraining order of any kind…”

“Why not?” spat Hyle. “He seems to be trying to invade our lives at every opportunity, he… Gal, can you please stop moving the bed?”

Gal totally ignored Hyle and continued to play with the controls, but Hyle’s attention was recaptured by Brienne. “He’s not trying to invade our lives,” she insisted. “He’s Gal’s dad and he just wants to be as good father as possible. Jaime is trying really hard to make a change at the moment, and we shouldn’t knock him for it. We should support him.”

“Brienne,” said Hyle wearily, as if he was talking to a very small child. “Jaime is one of those people who is always going to be a failure; he works as a security guard at a sex shop, for Christ’s sake, and got barred from the legal profession after all it came to light that he’d been blackmailing people for years.”

“That’s not the Jaime I know,” Brienne began. “His family have always been very _difficult, _and I think you would really like him if you came to appreciate how…”

However, Hyle was not listening as Gal had managed to raise both the top and bottom of the bed so Brienne’s fiancé was almost folded in half. “Gal, can I control the bed? Please?”

Gal gave him a little grin. “No, but you can watch me control it.”

Brienne had to bite down a laugh as Hyle started to puff himself up, but just then a doctor came into the ward, making all three of them turn to face him.

“Hello,” the round, jolly doctor said. “My name is Samwell Tarly.”

Brienne smiled. “Oh! Are you Gilly Tarly’s husband?”

“Yes I am,” replied Samwell. “How do you know Gilly?”

Brienne pointed at Gal. “This is Galladon Tarth. Your wife teaches him.”

Samwell looked happy and surprised at the coincidence. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Ms Tarly has told me all about you, Gal!”

“She has?” beamed Gal in wonderment.

“Yes,” smiled Samwell. “She tells me you are very interested in wildlife. Is that true?”

Gal blushed furiously, very happy that someone was taking an interest in him. “Yes, I love…”

Brienne’s son didn’t get to finish his sentence, however, as Hyle cut across him. “We don’t have time for Gal’s ridiculous love of newts now,” he huffed. “I am in quite a serious amount of pain and want to know my scan results.”

Dr Tarly furrowed his brow, firstly at Hyle’s brusque tone, secondly at his interruption of Gal, and then finally at the absence of a _please. _“Well, Mr Hunt, what results are you expecting?”

“Haven’t you got notes?” Hyle snapped. “I’m here because I was tripped up by my fiancée’s obsessive ex while running the Riverrun River Run!”

“Jaime’s not an obsessive ex…” Brienne went to interject, but Hyle wasn’t listening.

“You know, this is my first marathon I haven’t finished… Gal, stop moving the bed.”

Dr Tarly began to look through his notes. “Well, Mr Hunt, we did a scan of both your ankle and your foot to see what we could find.”

“And?” Hyle asked impatiently.

Dr Tarly immediately closed his notes once more. “We couldn’t find anything at all.”

Hyle’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“Yes…” smiled Dr Tarly, a little too self-satisfied. “No rupture, no ligament damage.”

Brienne leant across to Hyle, reaching for his hand, saying, “Oh, that’s great,” but he pulled away from her.

“Gal, stop moving the bed,” he growled.

“In fact,” said Dr Tarly, “there’s no real damage anywhere.”

Hyle scoffed. “Are you sure? My leg fucking kills.”

"Hyle,” chastised Brienne, “can you please not swear in front of Gal.”

Dr Tarly kept up his slightly too nice bedside manner. “I’m one hundred percent certain. What is it you runners say? You hit the Wall?”

Her fiancé’s mouth dropped open in horror. “No! That did not happen! That’s not possible! That bastard Jaime tripped me! He…”

They never heard what else Jaime was supposed to have done, however, as at that moment, Hyle’s bed went from a V-shape to suddenly snapping back to perfectly horizontal. Consequently, the pillow he was resting his foot went flying across the room and his head whacked nastily against the wall. Gal let out a little gasp when he realised what he had done, dropping the remote control in shock.

“Hyle,” he began, “I’m sorry…”

However, it seemed Hyle had no time for a six-year-old’s apologies. Sitting up, Brienne could see that her fiancé was red faced and furious, fixing Gal with a venomous look. “God damn it! How many times do I have to tell you? Stop messing around with the bed you little shit!”

In the silence that followed, Brienne could have heard a pin drop. Gal turned to his mother, tears in his blue eyes, and the only sound was Dr Tarly letting out an anxious little breath. “I’ll think I’ll leave the three of you alone,” he said, closing his notes before giving Brienne and Gal a little nod, then exiting the room.

All the colour drained from Hyle’s face, “Brienne, I…”

“Don’t you dare to presume to talk to my son like that,” she spat. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” said Hyle quietly, looking a little sheepish, “but surely you can see he was messing around with the bed…”

“He’s _six, _Hyle! And I assume he’s not in the most forgiving of moods because you decided to have a fight with his father in the middle of a marathon!”

When Gal started nodding, all sweetness and light, Hyle’s temper broke once more. “Jaime tripped _me! _It was him that was behaving like the psychotic stalker we both know he is. He was trying to push my buttons, telling me about all the perverted little fantasies he has about you…”

Brienne wasn’t going to listen to this anymore, because it sounded so incredibly unlike Jaime that she thought the whole story had to be fake. “I don’t believe you. Jaime is many things, but he wouldn’t be so disrespectful about me.”

_He loves me, _she thought, before remembering.

_I don’t want to think about Jaime._

Signalling to Gal, Brienne got out of her seat. “Come on, we’re going home.” Once they were across the room, Hyle leapt out of the bed, his supposed ligament damage suddenly having mysteriously vanished.

“Why do you always take his side over mine?” spat Hyle, as the three of them exited into the corridor.

“Whose side?”

_Is he talking about Jaime or Gal?_

“Jaime. You refuse to believe he’s anything other than goddamn perfect.”

“I’m not angry at you about Jaime,” she said, trying to keep her voice level for her son’s sake, as she dragged Gal towards the stairs. “I’m angry because you said something nearly unforgivable to my son!”

“God, Brienne, can’t you see I’m not in my right mind?” he snapped. “Jaime _tripped _me, he screwed up my whole marathon. I’m entitled to be angry!”

“Not at my son you’re not,” she hissed.

“Brienne…”

“No,” she stated, silencing him. “We’ll talk about this when we get home.”

Hyle tried to bring the conversation up again in the car, but every time he did, she shushed him. He was being so unreasonable that she was perfectly prepared to lay down the law, but she would not do it in front of Gal. If she was going to marry Hyle, she could not expose her son to fractures and arguments like this.

“Brienne,” Hyle said for what felt like the hundredth time as they were stuck in traffic, “what you’ve got to understand about Jaime is…”

Turning the radio up to full volume, she prepared to drown out whatever Hyle had to say. She didn’t want to hear it; she didn’t want to hear him criticise Jaime. So, instead, she focussed her attention on the mellifluous voice now coming out of the car radio. It was Barristan Selmy.

“… we are happy to announce that we will be chatting to Khal Drogo about his training regime very shortly, we would first like to discuss a very special runner in this year’s Riverrun River Run who has taken the internet by storm.”

“Yes Barristan,” replied his co-host Missandei. “Over the last few hours the hashtag #RunFatKnightRun has been trending on twitter in relation to a mystery runner who has been trying to complete the marathon on what looks like a severely sprained ankle.”

“He’s going so slowly that he’s almost been overtaken by the safety car,” chuckled Barristan, “but here at London Sport Live we think it is not about the winning, but the taking part, so we are determined to discover who our unlikely hero is. The only things we do know with any certainty is that he is running for _Erectile Dysfunction UK…”_

“And he appears to have a prosthetic right hand,” chimed in Missandei, “so if you do know his identity, please get in touch.”

Brienne’s stomach swooped before Missandei had even finished her sentence. Jaime was still running? Why the heck was Jaime still running? He was meant to be at hospital, not running a fricking marathon. She remembered his promise to her in _Sweet Tooth _when he had first pledged to run the Riverrun River Run.

_I_’m_ going to prove to you I’ve changed, wench, if it’s the last thing I do. I keep my promises, so I am going to run that damn marathon._

Even though the conversation on London Sport Live had now moved on to Khal Drogo’s athletic achievements, the atmosphere in the car was one of astonishment. Brienne could see Gal’s mouth was wide open, and Hyle had gone a furious red. As for herself, it shocked Brienne to her very core to hear that Jaime Lannister was doing exactly what he promised her.

_He’s trying to show me he’s changed, _she thought incredulously, before she remembered.

_I don’t want to think about Jaime._

When they got home, Gal raced into the front room to turn London Sport Live on. “Do you think Daddy will be on there?” he chirped.

“I…” Brienne went to say, but Hyle cut across her.

“Who cares? He’s a cheat, anyway, he should be disqualified.”

Gal’s brow knit in anger as he sat on the sofa. “My dad is not a cheat!”

Hyle went to respond, but Brienne put her hand firmly on his chest, before snapping, “_you _are the adult. Please try behaving like one.”

“And so are you!” he thundered back, “why can’t you see how pathetic he is? All he’s trying to do is some big romantic gesture to sweep you off your feet!”

_A big romantic gesture? _she thought distantly. In the days following Jaime’s abandonment of her, Brienne had thought she would have forgiven him if he had done one of two things; said the words _I am sorry _or done something to show her how much he loved her. In truth, she had never given him the chance, because she had refused to see him, but now she thought about it, maybe it was her own fault for not doing so. If she had given him the space to do so, maybe he would have apologised, maybe…

_No, _she told herself. _He’s always been too proud. For six years he’s been deflecting and using mealy phrases like “I regret it” or “I know what I did was wrong”. He’s never been man enough to say, “I am sorry”, so how could this possibly be a big romantic gesture?_

“It’s not some big romantic gesture!” Brienne insisted, “he’s just trying to run a marathon.”

“Are you fucked in the head?” Hyle shouted, looking at her as if she had gone bonkers. “Do you just see that stupidly handsome face of his and just lose your shit?”

Brienne started to see red. “I’ve told you, Hyle, do not swear in front of Gal! And, no, I don’t lose my mind when I see Jaime. It sounds remarkably like you’re jealous to me!”

“Jealous!” Hyle bellowed, “_you _make me that way, Brienne! Every time you see him you give him these stupid googly eyes and look like you immediately want to drop your knickers for him!”

“That’s not true,” Brienne replied, her cheeks flushing. She tried not to think of what Jaime had accused her of the day after her engagement – _you might play the obedient little fiancée in the daylight, but we both know that at night you are still gagging for my cock _– that had made her furious, but in truth she had slapped him because she knew in all honesty she would not have been able to deny it.

“It _is _true!” Hyle replied, his face red. “You are so obsessed with him that you forgive every tiny thing he’s ever done! You even forgave him for the _War of the Five Kings _tickets, even when I made sure he’d fuck that up!”

Brienne’s blood went icy. “What do you mean you’d _made sure he’d fuck that up?_”

Hyle’s eyes were wide once he realised what he had said, before his skin went a nasty shade of puce. Trying to recover himself, he said, “nothing. I don’t mean anything by it.”

Brienne wasn’t having any of it. “What do you mean you’d _made sure he’d fuck that up?” _she repeated, her anger dripping from her words. “It must mean something Hyle!”

He stared at her a few more seconds, weighing up his options, before finally putting his hands up in a mock surrender. “Alright! You caught me! I paid Bronn off so Jaime wouldn’t have the tickets, but I only did it because _I _wanted to go with you and Gal!”

It felt like if the ground beneath her feet had jolted, like she was caught in an earthquake. Up until this very moment, she had thought Hyle so mature against Jaime’s childishness, but now she could see that was not the case at all. Almost from the beginning, Hyle had been stirring things up and making things difficult and driving further wedges between her and Jaime. Her rage was justified.

“Hyle!” she said, her voice shrill. “I can’t believe this! I can’t believe _you! _I was really angry with him, and it was your fault the whole time?”

Her fiancé gave her no room to rant however, as he stepped forward, pushing his massive bulk into her personal space. “He _deserves _your anger,” spat Hyle. “He _deserves _your anger for what he's done and yet you give him nothing but your love!”

“I do not!” she tried to counter, but Hyle leant forward and grabbed her wrist, making it difficult for her to retreat.

“Go on then, say it!” he yelled, digging his fingers into her flesh. “Tell me you don’t love him!”

“Get off me!” she ordered.  
  
His brown eyes were burning with rage. “Tell me you don’t love him, and then I’ll let go.”

Jaime had asked her a similar question the previous evening, and she had not been able to give him an answer then, either. Instead, she had thrown all the anger and self-pity she had been feeling for six years straight into his face, almost hoping he could pick it up and make sense of it, because the truth was, she had no idea what she felt. Ever since she met Jaime, she had been haunted by him, because he was the first, and perhaps only, man who had ever treated her like a woman worthy of love and affection, even as she struggled to believe it herself. Feeling Hyle’s nails dig into her skin, she knew Jaime would never do something like this to her, would never countenance it.

_Because he loves me, _she thought, before remembering.

_I don’t want to think about Jaime._

Brienne struggled to find some words that would ameliorate Hyle, but eventually her bacon was saved by Gal, who cried, “it’s Daddy! He’s on the telly!”

Hyle dropped her wrist instantly to march across the room and stare, half possessed, at the picture on the screen. Barristan Selmy was there, walking along the course of the Riverrun River Run. “The loneliness of the long-distance runner,” the presenter said, “a phrase epitomised by this man, Jaime Lannister.”

Without even thinking, Brienne went to sit on the sofa next to Gal, who was gazing at the screen in wide-eyed wonder. There was Jaime, right in front of her, looking the worst she had ever seen him other than those awful days she had curled up beside him in the hospital, trying to console a broken man. His face was red, his charity shirt stained with sweat, and he was hobbling along like he had been in a warzone. Even so, his green eyes were bright. Not quite believing what she was seeing, she took her son’s hand, suddenly feeling an urgent need to be close to his father.

Barristan Selmy was smiling at the camera. “Let’s get some insight from the man himself. Mr Lannister, how do you feel?”

Jaime looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “How the fuck do you think I feel?”

The laughter was upon her in a moment. Even though she tried to bite down on her lip to suppress it, it came out in a river of guffaws because Gal had begun giggling beside her too. That only made Hyle look furious. “You’re now laughing with him?” he spat. Gal stopped chuckling in an instant.

“Yes, I am,” admitted Brienne, tired of Hyle’s stupid attempts to make her bad mouth Jaime, “because he said something funny. And Jaime’s not really the kind of man to yell at Gal or dig his fingernails in my arm if I’ve said something he doesn’t like.”

“And why the hell do you think that is?” yelled Hyle.

Brienne went to answer, but then Bronn Blackwater beat her to it audaciously on prime time. “It’s that he’s still crazy, stupid in love with his ex-fiancée. He thinks that by doing this, he can show her he’s no longer the self-pitying, self-hating flake he’s been playing for the past six years and is now actually deserving of her love. It’s his way of saying he wants her back.”

Snapping her head back to face the screen, Brienne could only stare as Bronn decided to pour out her romantic history with Jaime on national television. Gratifyingly, she could still see Jaime in the shot, and he looked equally as horrified as her, especially when Sansa jumped in frame and yelled, “come on Brienne! He’s changed! Take him back!”

It was not just Sansa; Renly clearly had the same idea. “Yeah, take him back! Woooh!”

_And I thought they hated Jaime..._

Brienne then felt herself become frozen to the spot in embarrassment and excitement as Sansa started pontificating on her love story with Jaime. “I get that it’s hard sometimes, to trust again, but what is life and love without a little risk?”

“That’s very true,” conceded Barristan.

“Thank you,” replied Sansa, blushing. “But Brienne is just so stubborn. It’s clear she still loves him very much to absolutely everyone. They even had a conversation only last night which got a bit tense and angsty, but I just saw them together and knew instantly that they are still in love with each other.”

“You… you… spoke to him last night?” stammered Hyle, but Brienne didn’t answer. She was too transfixed on the utter truth bombs that Sansa was launching into the world.

“You can’t hide that sort of emotion you know? It just seems really silly to me that they don’t give it another go. I mean… I know she has Hyle…”

Brienne felt herself tense as Barristan asked, “who’s Hyle?”

Sansa looked faintly disgusted. “Brienne’s fiancé, but it’s so clear he’s not right for her because he just doesn’t let her be an independent person. We all agree, don’t we?”

When there was a chorus of agreement from her friends, Hyle finally reached the end of his tether. “That bitch,” he spat, “she’s always had it in for me, right from the beginning! And now she’s backing that bastard Lannister? Has she got the hots for him as well, or is it just you that acts like a bitch on heat around him?”

That was one step too far. Hyle had been foul, raging, and awful all day, and against the backdrop of her friends all agreeing he wasn’t right for her, Brienne suddenly felt liberated. She had been forcing herself into something safe and nice all this time because she feared the alternative; having to spend the rest of her life knowing she was not good enough for Jaime. Yet now, she knew she would rather have a lifetime of that than a minute more with Hyle. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her car keys.

“Gal,” she said gently, “do you mind going to sit in the car for Mummy?”

“But I want to watch this!” he pouted.

“You can put the radio on,” she promised, enclosing the key in his hand. “You can hear it on there.”

A little reluctantly, Gal stood up to agree, shooting Hyle a look that approached aggressiveness. After he had obeyed and left the room, Hyle rounded on her. “Why have you sent him away?”

“Because I don’t want him to spend another minute in the same room as someone who shouts at him when he’s just having a bit of innocent fun, who calls him a shit, who badmouths his father, and calls his mother a bitch on heat.”

Hyle let out a frustrated sigh. “But can’t you see how everyone is against me? It was _Jaime _who tripped me, Jaime who is painting me to be something I am not, and you are just letting him do it and not listening to my side of the story!”

Brienne was about to say that she _was _listening, but once again Barristan Selmy interrupted their conversation. “I believe that… now… it seems Missandei has some information on how Mr Lannister became the one-legged marathon runner we all know and love for our viewers. Back to the Studio.”

“Thanks Barristan,” said Missandei as the camera flicked back. “It appears we have some new footage from a bystander showing what exactly happened to Mr Lannister.”

The video of Jaime and Hyle’s race appeared in beautiful technicolour on Brienne’s giant flatscreen, as Missandei narrated. “And here it is. As you can see quite clearly, the runner just behind Mr Lannister is involved in some way.” London Sport Live slowed it down, showing the exact moment Hyle swiped Jaime’s legs from under him. “In fact, if we look at it again here… yes! He deliberately trips him.”

There was a silence that seemed to go on forever as Brienne walked up to the TV and switched it off. She had seen enough. When she turned back to Hyle, he looked very pale. “It’s not what it looks like,” he stammered.

“No?” she asked sceptically. “What did happen then?”

Hyle tried to find the words to justify himself. “That angle makes it look bad, but he definitely tripped me!”

“Really?” she laughed derisively.

“Yes!” Hyle insisted again. “He tripped me!”

“I don’t believe you,” she said, almost emotionlessly.

Hyle pulled a face. “You seriously think I’d do something to a guy like that, who is just jealous of me?”

Brienne snorted. “I think you are jealous of _him_, Hyle.”

Her fiancé tried to compose himself. “I’m not jealous, it’s just… I… I… it’s very stressful at work at the moment. I’m not myself, okay? I haven’t been myself for a long time…”

“So you decide to swear at my son and trip up Jaime?”

Hyle held his hands out, trying to reach a reconciliation. “Look, I know it seems bad, but everything will be better once we move.”

“Move?” she asked him incredulously, as if he had gone mad.

“To San Francisco.”

“What?” she spluttered, suddenly back on the edge of fury.

“Too soon?” Letting out an infuriated scream, Brienne turned her back on him and began to march out of the lounge, but he stopped her with a shout. “Hey! Where are you going?"

Not able to prevent herself blushing, she said, “it’s none of your business.”

“You can’t be going to _him?_” spluttered Hyle incredulously. “Come on, Brienne. The guy basically left you at the altar, _pregnant._”

Brienne turned around to look back at Hyle, straight into his muddy brown eyes. If she honestly examined her own feelings, she knew they made her feel nothing, because they weren’t that devastating shade of green that had always made her heart skip. It was no choice. She slipped off her engagement ring and put it on the coffee table, shrugging.

“Nobody’s perfect.”

Hyle’s mouth dropped open, aghast. “Brienne… Brienne…”

“Goodbye Hyle,” she said, escaping her prison. “I expect you gone before I get back.”

Turning on her heel, she marched out of the living room and back into the hallway. However, she had not expected Hyle to be so quick. Coming up behind her, he span her around to face him before slamming her back against the wall. Brienne could tell she would have bruises later.

“You can’t leave me!” he shouted, flecks of spitting hitting her face as he leant into her, his eyes wild.

“Yes I can,” she said furiously, refusing to be cowed by such a ridiculous pompous twat, trying to free herself from his grip.

“No you can’t,” he snarled, “you’re an ugly frigid bitch who no man will look at twice. Who is ever going to want to spend the rest of their life with you if not me?”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Jaime,” she said simply.

Although the answer was composed to enrage, Brienne didn’t expect that Hyle would grab her tightly and slam her back against the wall once more, her head cracking nastily against the plaster. At his outburst, the instinct to survive overrode her more rational impulses instantly, and she brought her knee up and drove it straight into his crotch. As that only made him fold into himself to protect his prized possessions, she shoved him back sharply to get him out of her personal space. Hyle topped back against the wall behind him, before sliding down and curling into a ball.

“I’ll repeat myself, because you seem to be hard of hearing,” Brienne said, her voice like ice. “I expect you gone before I get back. If you’re still here, I will not be nice about it.” Not wanting to look at him a moment more, she turned away from him and marched out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

_I don’t want to think about Hyle a second more, _she thought as she walked towards the car, _but I _do _want to think about Jaime._

For six years she had been pushing him to the edge of her world, not allowing herself to contemplate what-ifs and what-might-have-beens. In abandoning her, he had made her question the very framework on which she had based their relationship; that she was capable of and worthy of love, and he had given it to her freely. Ever since that snowy night, the easiest thing to accept had been that he never loved her and had finally noticed that she was an ugly beast unworthy of his affections. If she did not internalise that assumption and make it the guiding principle of the last six years, the alternative would have been too awful to contemplate; that in the months leading up to their wedding he had been sad, worried, and struggling, and she hadn’t noticed.

Brienne knew for the end of their relationship to make sense, _she _had to be the broken one, _she _had to be the one to scare him away, because she could not countenance seeing Jaime as anything as the wonderful man she had always loved endlessly. It _had _to be her fault, because the idea that he thought he was in some way not good enough for her was so ludicrous that it would make her laugh if it wasn’t so serious. And if it _was _her fault, taking Jaime back would only be a monumental mistake, because it would not be long before he spotted it again; that there was nothing worthy of him inside her heart.

And yet here he was, half killing himself by running twenty-six miles. Only Jaime Lannister would think that completing the Riverrun River Run on one leg, six hours slower than everybody else, and when asked for an eloquent explanation for how he felt say something that approached “fucking terrible”, was a statement of love.

But it _was _a statement of love, she could feel it to the very centre of herself.

_Jaime loves me, _she thought, the knowledge of that suddenly feeling like a weight off her shoulders, because for the first time in six years she finally believed it.

_Jaime loves me and I love him._

_And I forgive him, _she concluded, knowing it was true in an instance.

_I forgive him, because the alternative is to carry around this darkness forever._

When she got into the driver’s seat next to Gal, her son was listening to the radio. He looked up at her with his big blue eyes. “Mummy, are we going somewhere?”

She smiled at him. “Yes. Let’s go see your dad finish his race.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... thoughts? As ever I love comments, especially in relation to Brienne's POV! Again, there was a little bit of stolen dialogue in this one, but I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime approaches the finish line...


	23. The Finish Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime reaches the finish line...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late! I struggled with it a bit if I'm honest, especially after everyone enjoyed the last chapter so much! So I hope you like it, and let me know with comments or kudos what you think :)

All in all, running the Riverrun River Run had been nothing like Jaime had expected. He had been reliably informed (by a six-year-old) that he would have been able to see ducks and pretty scenery but, in truth it had been twenty-five miles of utter pain and exhaustion right from the get-go.

_I’m so close, I’m so close, I’m so close…_

“And this is it!” announced Barristan Selmy into his microphone. “The moment Jaime Lannister spots St Paul’s Cathedral on the horizon. Only one more mile to go before he seizes victory and a place in Riverrun River Run history.”

“Come on Jaime!” cheered Bronn, “you can do this! You are so close!”

Asha snorted, “your legs look like they’re about to collapse. Are you going to give up, Jaime? Because that would be what you usually do!”

_I’m so close, I’m so close, I’m so close…_

At some point in the last nine miles, his support group had swelled. Ellaria had turned up with her boyfriend Oberyn and given an effusive interview to Barristan about how she was the first person to invest in Jaime by lending him the money for running shoes. Davos also then appeared, giving a glowing review of his work at the Citizen’s Advice Bureau. Pia also arrived, hanging onto Josmyn Peckledon, to give him a wave. Everyone kept giving and giving and giving their support so even though Jaime was exhausted and pretty sure he was close to death, he had never felt so loved or appreciated in his whole life.

As they crossed the Millenium Bridge, Jaime’s supporters and Euron’s heavies started competing as to who could cheer or boo the loudest, but he could barely hear them. Fixing his eyes on the great white dome of St Paul’s, he kept putting one foot in front of the other, just as his first piece of advice about marathon running had instructed him to.

_I’m so close, I’m so close, I’m so close…_

Once he crossed the bridge, he started to focus on what would await him at the end. Although he had put away his hope that Brienne and Gal would be waiting for him several miles back, Jaime was still looking forward to the amazing sense of accomplishment that would wash over him. However, no one was quite as excited as Barristan Selmy.

“As we draw tantalisingly close to the finish line here at St Paul’s Cathedral,” beamed Barristan, as they passed under the shadow of the great monument, “it is safe to say, it’s been a very long day for myself and my camerawoman. It’s been a very long day for you watching at home, but for Jaime Lannister, it’s been the single longest day of his life.”

Olenna started up a chorus of “come on Jaime!” at that. Just as they did so, they passed a pub, which joined in the cheering. Someone even offered Jaime a beer, which he wearily turned down.

_I_ _’m so close, I’m so close, I’m so close…_

In his peripheral vision, he saw Euron talking to Daario Naharis and Salladhor Saan.

“We can’t let this happen!” hissed Euron. “We’re going to lose a fortune!”

Unfortunately, both Daario and Salla were wearing the same baffled expression. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do,” said Daario. “I think he’s going to finish.”

At that, Margaery started estimating how far he was from the end. “Like, forty metres, thirty nine, like… thirty eight and a half…”

“COME ON JAIME!” Davos bellowed from the back.

Realising he was so close to the end, Jaime finally looked up from his feet in order to see the finish line for the first time. Margaery was right; it was barely forty metres away. Confronted by the knowledge that he had almost done it, Jaime felt his whole body relax from head to toe, and in doing so broke one of the cardinal rules of running: don’t drag your feet.

His error had an immediate price. Catching his foot on an uneven bit of road, he stumbled and, given how tired he was, he just fell to the floor, grazing the palms of his hands and his knees once again. Being off his feet for the first time in hours was an immense relief, and there was a part of him that just wanted to stay lying on the ground for the rest of the evening.

“Yes!” laughed Euron. “I knew you couldn’t finish it!”

“Stay down!” cackled Asha.

But his supporters were having none of it. “Come on Jaime, get up,” ordered Bronn.

“Yeah,” concurred Tyrion. “It’s starting to get a bit embarrassing now.”

“I know you’re tired,” said Sansa soothingly, “but come on! Now is the time to get up!”

Jaime took a few breaths before putting his arms under him, trying to lift himself up. He was just so exhausted he didn’t know if he could manage it; his body was just telling him to listen to Asha’s order and stay down. He just wanted to sleep, he just wanted to rest, he just wanted to… but then he heard a voice.

“Dad! Daddy! He’s there!”

_Gal?_

From his position on the floor, Jaime looked up. Blinking confusedly, he stared at the finish line. Just beyond the coloured archway heralding the end stood two figures; one was a golden-haired boy of six, and the other was the love of Jaime’s life. Gal was smiling like he had won a prize, whereas Brienne seemed to be on the verge of tears.

“Jaime!”

_Stay with me, please… Stay._

Forgetting his pain, his tiredness, and his exhaustion, Jaime forced himself to his feet, ignoring the sharp stinging sensation in his cut hand as he did so. Even though he had spent the last twenty-five miles struggling with the searing pain in his ankle, there was going to be nothing in the world that kept him away from his love and his son for a moment longer. So he ran.

And ran…

And ran…

At his sudden sprint, Jaime’s supporters and detractors fell to silence; or at least that’s what he perceived as happening, because all he could hear was Brienne’s voice calling his name and all he could see were her blue eyes glistening with tears, just as they had been on that awful day at the Winterfell Hotel. Yet he knew he wouldn’t run away this time. This time, he would choose to stay with her for as long as she would have him, in whatever way she wanted him.

Her mouth dropped open in astonishment as Jaime charged towards her, and the sheer power of the sight of her here to support him meant that he would not have known he had crossed the finish line unless she hadn’t broken into a relieved smile, so beautiful that it almost made him weep.

“Jaime…”

Standing before her, Jaime suddenly became very conscious of the overwhelming pain shooting through his body, and in a second his legs buckled. Yet it turned out that it did not matter at all, as Brienne was there to scoop him up in her strong, but gentle, arms, lowering him carefully towards the ground to stop him getting hurt. Cradling him close to her, Jaime found he could reach up and cup her cheek with his hand. It warranted no objection, just a teary smile. Jaime hadn’t prepared any words for her, but now he was here, safe, in her arms, what he had been meaning to say for six years came tumbling out, all barriers permanently reduced to nothing.

“I’m sorry Brienne,” he sobbed, blindly patting her through his tears. “I’m so sorry for everything. It’s all my fault. These last six years. The wedding. Me and You. I ruined everything. Everything. I’m so, so, sorry, from the bottom of my heart.”

“Shhh…” she said consolingly, but he would not let her silence him.

“I love you, and I always have, and I’ll never stop loving you, because I’m yours… only ever yours… And the reason I left wasn’t because I didn’t love you, I’ve always loved you… always… always…”

A tear rolled down her cheek. “Jaime…”

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he confessed, trying to make her understand why everything had gone so horribly wrong, “but if you’ll let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

As his tears began to fall, he could finally see her properly, and Brienne was wearing a similar expression to him. “You did a really stupid thing out there today,” she said, her voice breaking, her hand cupping his face, brushing away his tears. She was so gentle.

“For you, Brienne,” he gasped, his breathing made even more erratic by his emotions. “I’ve changed… I can change… I need time to show you… just please don’t go to San Francisco.”

Then she started to properly cry too. “I won’t Jaime, I won’t, I promise…” Copying what she had done, Jaime swiped his thumb across her cheek, catching her tears before they fell. She caught his hand in hers, pressing it into her warm skin. “I’ve just been so _angry _with you for so long, that I didn’t want to see that you’ve been trying to change… and see it now, I really do. I’m so proud of you… and I don’t want to be angry anymore.”

“Then don’t be,” Jaime gulped. “I love you, Brienne.”

Brienne smiled through her tears. “I love you too, Jaime… I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to admit it.”

As a great wave of gratitude and relief washed over him, Jaime noticed that Gal had knelt down beside him. “Dad!” he beamed excitedly. “You won!”

Jaime didn’t know whether Gal was talking about the race, or his own dignity and self-respect, or his family, but he didn’t really care. He pulled Gal on top of him so he could kiss his forehead, and then pulled Brienne down towards him too so he could hold them both close. “I love you both so much,” said Jaime through his tears, even as Brienne drew her arms round them both, holding them tightly. “So, so much.”

He had never been happier in his entire life; after six years apart, Jaime finally felt at one with his family again. He would have held onto them both forever if Gal hadn’t started squeaking, giggling with laughter.

“We’re going to be on TV!”

It was only then Jaime became distantly aware of the massive crowd of people around him. Bronn and Olenna were hugging each other. Sansa and Margaery were dancing. Renly and Loras were kissing. Barristan Selmy was losing his damn mind. “He’s done it!” he shouted into his microphone. “He’s actually done it! This morning, Jaime Lannister was a humble security guard from South London! Tonight, he goes home a hero!”

Jaime barely heard any of it, though, because once Gal leapt off him and started jumping up and down with Tyrion and Tysha, Brienne was the only person in Jaime’s world. “Wench,” he managed to say, his words struggling to get out through the strength of his feelings. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you.”

Even though she was still crying, she gave him a luminescent smile and said, “I do Jaime, because I’ve missed you too. Every day.”

“Every day,” he agreed, smiling and crying, his heart breaking with sadness at how long they had been apart, but at the same time mending because now they were here, together, and they had a shining chance.

As he went to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, the look in her eye grew suddenly more intense, and then she breathed, “Come here.”

Before he could ask her what she meant, her lips were on his. It was nothing like the kiss they had shared when they had both drunk too much Scorpion; this time, she was gentle and loving, determined to convey the depths of her feelings for him. Pursing his lips, he tried to draw a firmer reaction out of her, which she rewarded him with instantly by drawing his bottom lip between hers and sucking on it gently. In response, he ran is left hand through her hair, and wrapped his right arm around her, pulling her closer. As he was enveloped in her arms, her body so warm and firm against his, he let himself block out the world, wanting her alone.

Once Jaime became conscious of the fact that they were both letting out contented little moans into each other’s mouths, Jaime decided to deepen the kiss, only to find that Brienne had beaten him to it. Parting his lips with her tongue, she began to coax him, teasing him to follow her back into her own mouth. Tilting his head to give himself better access, he then furiously pushed his tongue forward, drawing her into a clumsy dance they had both only half remembered the routine to in six years. Matching their duelling tongues, they grasped at each other – he felt her arms, her face, her waist, her heat – while Barristan Selmy narrated it all for the nation.

“What an extraordinary story! After twenty-six miles, Jaime Lannister has crossed the finish line, and fallen into the arms of the woman he loves! And look! He’s got a son! Why did no one mention he had a son! Did you know he had a son, Irri? Anyway, what a beautiful story, dear viewers, and what a beautiful night!”

* * *

Although Jaime would have quite enjoyed lying in the road snogging Brienne for the rest of the evening, the real world called. Eventually, she helped him to his feet and in a second all his supporters were around him, their congratulations lost in the cacophony of cheering.

“I’M GOING TO BARBADOS!” yelled Bronn. “You are literally the best mate a man could ask for!”

Olenna was beaming, “you did it, Jaime, you really did it! What a show!”

“I’m literally the best trainer in the world,” grinned Loras. “Come on, admit it!”

“You are the best trainer in the world,” concurred Jaime with a smile, as Brienne pulled his arm across her shoulder and allowed him to put all his weight on her as they limped towards the podium that had been assembled for the professional athletes.

With the entire thing being filmed by London Sport Live, Jaime, with the help of Brienne, mounted the podium and was awarded his medal for completing the marathon by none other than Catelyn Tully herself.

“I see you entered the marathon honestly,” she smiled.

“Yes,” he nodded, “And I at least got a little sponsorship money for _Erectile Dysfunction UK.”_

“Not just that,” came a voice. Jaime turned around to see two men. The first was Jorah Mormont, who had been knocked out of the race by a flying wheelchair, and the second was none other than Mr Varys, who Jaime recognised as the President of _Erectile Dysfunction UK. _Mr Varys was smiling at him. “Thanks to you, a _GoFundMe _page started in your honour has raised over half a million pounds for our charity during the course of your race.”

Jaime was dumbfounded. “Half… half a million pounds?”

“Yes,” said Varys with a smile. “So, on behalf of _Erectile Dysfunction UK, _we would like to award you this certificate in thanks for your generous support.”

Propped up by Brienne and with Gal pulling on his t-shirt, Jaime had what then felt like ten thousand photos with both the organisers of the Riverrun River Run and _Erectile Dysfunction UK, _before Barristan Selmy stuck a microphone in his face.

“So, Jaime. Now your Herculean task is over… how do you feel?”

Exhausted. Broken. Tired. In Pain. Aching. Any one of those words would have done. But then he turned to look at Brienne, her blue eyes filled with pride. Just two months ago he had resigned himself to a lifetime in the cold, of never having anything other than her anger and contempt.

In the end, “happy” was the only appropriate thing to say.

* * *

After the cameras and the congratulations had passed, it was decided that the Jaime Lannister Support Club would go back to Brienne’s for a celebratory drink.

“You don’t have to, wench,” Jaime said gently.

She tilted her head in acknowledgement. “No, I don’t. But I want to.”

He felt a lump bloom in his throat; why was she being so kind? Trying to quell it, and the burgeoning hope in his chest along with it, he mumbled, “what about Hyle?”

Her fingers brushed against his chin as she turned his head towards her, so she could look straight in his eyes. “There is no Hyle.” That proved true when they arrived back at Evenfall Lane, and there was no sign of Hyle anywhere in the house either in person or in the presence of his belongings.

“Are we going to have a party?” asked Gal excitedly, as Brienne helped Jaime through the front door.

Brienne gave their son a little smile. “Not a party, no, but we are going to have our friends’ round for a quick drink. Maybe we’ll get some pizzas in too?” Gal looked like all his Christmases had come at once. “Why don’t you go and make sure all your toys are off the floor in the lounge while I help Daddy?”

“Okay!” beamed Gal, running off as determinedly as if Brienne had just appointed him chief party planner.

When Gal disappeared into the lounge, Brienne gently turned Jaime towards the stairs and started to help him up. “You don’t have to,” he said again, not wanting her to think him a burden. “I can get upstairs myself.”

“Shhh…” she chided him. “You’ve run twenty-six miles on a sprained ankle. Please let me help you. I want to make sure you are alright.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he said gently. That only earned him a roll of the eyes and another insistent “shh…”

Once she had him upstairs, she led him into the bathroom and commanded he sit down on the toilet. “Wait there,” she said when she finally let go of him and left the room. For Jaime, it was perhaps even more painful than the entirety of the marathon.

She returned a few minutes later armed with an old pair of her pyjamas. Holding them out to him, she said, “once you are washed, you can wear these.”

Jaime took them from her, even as he heard himself saying, “don’t worry. It will be easier for me to get home in my own clothes…”

Brienne looked at him as if he had gone mad. “You are not going home tonight. I told you. Let me look after you.”

There was no use objecting anymore. “Okay,” he whispered, the hairs on his arms standing on end at the promise of what that meant.

After that conversation, she started running the bath for him, and then they discussed pizza orders. “I know Renly, Loras, and Sansa’s usual orders, but what about the others? What shall I get them?”

Jaime shrugged. “Just get Tyrion and Tysha a large pepperoni. Bronn and Olenna can share a Margherita; I imagine both of them would much rather stick to the alcohol than eat.” Brienne let out a little laugh at that, before imputing their orders into the app on her phone. When she continued to type, Jaime said, “do you know what I want?”

“Thick crust Hawaiian,” she smiled. “I’ve already put it in.”

The fact that she remembered hit him somewhere deep. “You know me well, wench.”

After she had ordered the pizza, she then went to the cupboard and started looking through her bubble baths. “Do you want lavender? Or camomile and jasmine? What about tropical sun?”

As Jaime watched her, training his eyes over the smooth line of her back and the perfect flatness of her arse, he could see a bunched tension that betrayed an air of nervousness that was starting to surround her. Wanting to calm her, he said, “whatever you think is best. I trust your judgement.” Not looking at him, she selected the lavender and then went to pour it into the bath. Using her right hand, she then began to mix it into the water, until a cloud of bubbles covered the water. In his little flat, Jaime only had a shower, so he was really looking forward to the prospect of a bath. Especially if she got in with him.

“Right,” she said forcefully, her cheeks pink, trying to keep her nerves at bay. “Take your clothes off.”

Enjoying her authoritative tone, Jaime got to his feet to obey her, before giving her a small smile and saying, “I thought you wanted to take care of me. Why don’t you come over here and help me?”

Even though her cheeks went an even deeper red, Brienne began to take some tentative steps towards him, and in a few moments was fumbling with his prosthetic hand to take it off. Jaime didn’t try to help her; instead, he kept attempting to catch her eye, all the while trying to ignore how horribly aroused he was getting at the thought of Brienne taking his clothes off.

Once she finished with his prosthetic hand, she knelt down and began to untie his shoes and taking off his socks, spending extra time with the sock on his left foot so not as to upset his swollen ankle. When she had both shoes and socks off, she lifted her head to look up at him. “That looks very painful, you should…” Her sentence broke off as her eyes drifted across his crotch; he really wasn’t doing a good job at hiding how much he wanted her.

Getting to her feet, she backed away slightly, but he caught one of her wrists and held her close. “Don’t worry. I don’t… expect anything. As I believe I said before our… our… first time… I want to look after you. I’ll be gentle with you. And we won’t do anything you don’t want.”

Jaime had expected her to leave the room at that, spotting how nervous she was, but instead she stepped forward. At his words, some of the tension had gone out of her, and he could barely believe how lucky was as she looked at him with kindness in her blue eyes and began to help him take his t-shirt off, then his shorts, then his underwear. Part of him expected to feel vulnerable at his sudden nakedness, but instead he just felt safe, especially when she delicately placed her large hands at the centre of his chest. Inhaling briefly as she touched him for the first time, perhaps at the new yet familiar sensation of her skin on his, Jaime made sure to catch her fingers with his own, moving her right hand so it hovered over where he thought his heart was.

“It’s yours,” he breathed. “It will always be yours.”

Her voice was quiet, but somewhat sad, when she said, “I love you, Jaime, but…”

Jaime froze, scared that he had read this situation all wrong. “What’s wrong, Brienne? Talk to me.”

“I’m still fragile,” she whispered, her six years of pain clear in her expression. “It’s been so long since we’ve been together. We can’t just jump back into how things were.”

Jaime knew that. Brienne had always been so emotionally delicate, that he knew it would take time to rebuild the foundations, to make her secure from the rain. And he would wait. “Don’t worry,” he smiled, “we can take it slow. I don’t want to mess this up either, so it’s probably best if we don’t rush into things.”

He leant forward a gave her a gentle, sweet kiss on the lips, before saying, “why don’t I just have my bath, and you go downstairs and sort out Gal? I’ll join you when I’m done.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, her eyes filled with concern.

“Of course.”

Brienne bit her lip. “But what about… about…?” she said, looking down at his increasingly obvious erection.

Jaime let out a breath of laughter. “Don’t worry, wench. I can sort myself out.”

“Are you sure?” she repeated. Brienne always looked so endearingly innocent in moments like this.

“Promise,” he said. Gratitude flickered in her expression as she leant forward and cupped his face in her hands, giving him a deeper kiss than the one he had just offered her. Surrendering to her, he made a contented little growl at the back of his throat before she drew away, smiling.

“Hopefully Gal has picked up all his dinosaurs off the floor by now,” she grinned.

“Hopefully,” he agreed, as she retreated from the room.

Once she had gone, Jaime got in the bath, letting the warmth and the smell of lavender wash over him. For the first time in years, he truly felt content, even as he placed his hand on his cock.

_Slowly, wench, _he promised, as he began to run his hand down his shaft. _Slowly._

* * *

The party did not last long in the end; Gal was tired, and Jaime wanted nothing more than to throw his aching body into a bed and go to sleep. Brienne offered him the spare bedroom, so once he had tucked Gal into bed and kissed his forehead, Jaime limped down the hallway back towards the promise of sleep. Brienne was hovering at the door of her own bedroom, and Jaime gave her a few words of farewell before disappearing behind the door of the spare room. 

Barely waiting a second, he threw himself under the duvet, taking care to prop his swollen ankle up on a cushion. Closing his eyes, Jaime found he kept returning to the moment he had crossed the finish line and fallen into Brienne’s arms. He knew she was only a room away and wanted nothing more to be in her warmth and safety again. She would draw him against her and kiss him, saying that she loved him and nothing else mattered but the two of them, warm and safe in her bed…

The door clicked open and Jaime snapped his eyes open. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep; the only thing to go by was that now he was having to adjust his eyes to the darkness. Even so, he would recognise the silhouette approaching him anywhere.

“Brienne…” he whispered.

“Shh…” she replied, lifting up the duvet so she could climb in next to him. The bed was fairly small, but even so he shuffled across to make room for her. Then, his dream became a reality as she pulled him close, resting her head on his chest and taking his stump in her hand. Jaime knew Brienne did not want him to question what was happening; he was sure she did not even have the words for it. So he let her have her way, and that was how they fell asleep together that night.

And the night after that.

And the night after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... we are now drawing towards the end with this one. The film basically finishes here, but I thought we all deserved having a look at how they manage everything from now on. So there are probably going to be three more chapters. Once again, let me know what you think in a comment!
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime and Brienne decide to take it slowly...


	24. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne try to learn to live with each other...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew... well, I had an unexpectedly busy week, hence the lateness, but I hope you still enjoy. Also... err... I've put the rating up because I have no idea where that line is. As ever, I love comments and kudos, they make me a better writer!

“You’re not fucking her?” said Bronn incredulously, two weeks later when he, Jaime, and Tyrion were sitting at _The Twin Swords _over a beer.

“No,” said Jaime, taking a sip of his. “It’s not that I don’t… I mean… I love her and all…”

“Love her and all?” spluttered Tyrion. “You’ve been moping around about not being with her for _six years, _and then you snog her face off at the end of the marathon, and now you’re just living in her spare room… doing what exactly?”

“Raising Gal,” he said honestly. “Trying to see how different it is with three of us in that house instead of two.”

“Why don’t you take that cut of the winnings I gave you and go on holiday, somewhere dead romantic?” suggested Bronn. “Paris. Venice. Magaluf. Wine and dine her. Woo her. Then hit that.”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to just _hit that, _thanks. We are trying to make a life for the three of us, a life that will be ruined if we rush in at the rate of knots.”

Loras was equally confused when he and Jaime went out for a gentle jog together two days later. “Have you spoken about it?”

“About what?”

“_Doing it,_” he said. “It was clear to everyone at that finish line… and half the nation watching on London Sport Live… that you two are just meant to be.”

Jaime sighed. "Of course we've talked about it. It's just not something we're doing now."

_Slowly, _he reminded himself. _Slowly._

When he got back to Brienne’s house, he just had enough time to turn off the stew he’d had on boil in the slow cooker all afternoon before her and Gal came through the front door, having returned from running errands in town.

“Oooh, something smells nice,” she said, as she came into the kitchen.

“I’ve been cooking.”

“Dangerous,” she teased.

He cocked his eyebrow at her. “Are you smirking at me, wench?”

"No," she smiled. "I'd _never _do that."

Giving his shoulder a quick squeeze, she asked, "what are you cooking?"

"Some weird lamb stew I found on the internet. It involved minimal chopping, so I thought it was perfect."

Gal was looking at it a little sceptically, so Jaime ruffled his hair and said, "you don't know until you try it."

As it turned out, Gal was immensely unenthused about his dinner when Jaime put it in front of him.

"What is it?"

"Lamb stew," said Brienne, putting his spoon into his hand. "Why don't you try a little bit? You might like it."

Gal pouted in a way that reminded Jaime of himself. "Can I have chips?"

"No," said Brienne firmly. "This is good for you. Try some."

"But I don't..."

"Do you know why I picked this recipe, Gal?" Jaime interjected just before Gal could go nuclear.

Gal looked at him quizzically. "No... why did you pick it?"

"It's because this is what Stegosaurus' eat."

Gal's eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Really," confirmed Jaime. Brienne looked at him with amusement in her eyes; she knew it was a total lie, but a six-year-old with a love for dinosaurs certainly didn't. Gal was now looking down at his dinner with curiosity, poking at the corner of a carrot with his spoon. "And if it's good enough for a Stegosaurus, surely it's good enough for Gal Tarth?"

At that statement, Gal tentatively scooped up some stew on his spoon and brought it to his mouth. Sticking his tongue out, he gave it a quick lick, and when he found it didn't taste totally monstrous, he put the whole spoonful into his mouth. After that initial taste, he wolfed down his dinner quite happily. When Gal acquiesced to his dad's gentle invite to eat, Brienne leant over and squeezed Jaime's knee under the table. He tried not to blush as he ate his own stew.

For the rest of the evening, Jaime sat with Gal watching old Jacques Cousteau documentaries, while Brienne did some paperwork for _Sweet Tooth _in the office. Gal was enthusiastically giving Jaime facts about all the different types of tropical fish that appeared on the screen, so much so that he could barely hear the informative French drawl on the TV. As Brienne was working, when it was Gal's bedtime, Jaime took him up. He found Gal was a little stubborn about actually getting in the shower and then brushing his teeth, but once Jaime promised to read him a chapter of a story of his choice, Gal was more compliant.

"Night Gal," said Jaime after having read _two _chapters of his favourite story and kissing him on the forehead.

"Night Daddy," Gal replied, burrowing into his bed.

_I'm living the dream, _Jaime thought as he went back downstairs.

When he got to the lounge, he found Brienne sitting on the sofa, a glass of wine in her hand. "I've poured you one," she said, pointing to his glass on the coffee table 

"Thanks wench," he smiled, scooting over to pick up his glass before sitting down next to her. "Tough day?"

"I'm just thinking about revamping _Sweet Tooth_," she said, taking a sip of her wine, "and just trying to work out whether I have the money for it."

"Wow, that sounds like a big step," replied Jaime. "What are you thinking?"

Brienne curled her feet up underneath herself, her knees brushing his thighs, as she began to describe her plans. "I've been talking to Pod, and he thinks we might be able to get planning permission to extend the shop out the back. At the moment, we don't provide much seated service, so it might be nice to expand that way. More tables would mean more staff, so I just have to work out whether it would be financially manageable."

"Do you think it will be?" Jaime asked. "Because if more people get to try your cakes, that can only be a good thing."

Brienne blushed. "Are you trying to sweet talk me, Mr Lannister?"

He smirked. "I might be," he replied, biting his lip. "It's the only thing to do when I'm sharing a bottle of wine with a beautiful woman."

She rolled her eyes. "Six years and your lines haven't improved."

"Well, why don't you come over here and make me shut up?"

In truth, _going slowly _meant dating like a couple of teenagers who were just discovering love and sex for the first time. So far, nothing had gotten steamier than her undressing him in the bathroom on the night of the marathon, and a little bit of kissing with tongues. However, there was a determined look in Brienne's eye that told Jaime it might be a bit different that evening. Putting her glass of wine down on the coffee table, she edged towards him. Soon, they were right next to each other, close enough so Brienne could cup his face with her hands and bring him in for a kiss. Jaime could tell she wanted to lead the way that evening, as the second their lips touched, she pushed her tongue forward, seeking out his. Jaime wrapped his arms round her, wanting her to feel loved and needed, and when she started pulling at him, gave into her hot, urgent kissing, which tasted intoxicatingly of Brienne and red wine.

After several minutes, they were both panting and breathing heavily, so Jaime attempted to tug at her to pull her onto his lap. Brienne responded instantly by straddling his left leg. Sensing what she wanted, Jaime put his hands on her hips and encouraged her to grind against him, wanting to give her the friction she needed to get off. Even though he was as hard as a rock, Jaime was still determined to wait - _take this slowly -_so he tried to focus on her and give her pleasure. Breaking their kiss, he turned his attention to her breasts hidden under her plain white work shirt. As ever, Brienne was not wearing a bra, so a couple of well-placed kisses soon made her nipples erect and visible against the material.

Drawing back, Jaime murmured, "I'd forgotten how responsive your tits are."

She smiled at him, tilting his chin upwards so she could look into his eyes. "Do you want to see them?"

Losing all control of rational thinking, he managed to exclaim, "fuck yes," and then did all he could to help her get her shirt undone. Once it was entirely unbuttoned, her freckled breasts and rosebud nipples were his to survey, and he stared in wonder like a teenage boy seeing a girl's tits for the first time. After a few seconds of silent adoration, he lifted his left hand from her hip to touch them, but she batted it away.

"I want you to suck them, kiss them..." she admitted, blushing slightly. "I want your mouth on me."

"Yes wench," he said, obeying her devotedly by beginning to plant a trail of kisses between the valley of her breasts. Still grinding against his thigh, Brienne began to sigh as his kisses became open mouthed and more urgent - down her neck, along her collarbone, onto her breasts - and then let out a downright indecent moan as he latched onto her left nipple and began to kiss, bite, and tease her in an effort to get her to become more vocal.

Trying to direct him, Brienne ran her hands through his hair, pulling him closer and restricting his movement, in order to make sure his attention remained on her tits. "Fuck Jaime," she purred, "you weren't lying."

He stopped what he was doing so he could draw back and raise an eyebrow at her. "About what?"

Grabbing his head, she pulled him back towards her breasts before she answered, and he was already kissing her freckled skin by the time she said, "that time by the water fountain. Your reason for me going out with you was that you were very talented with your tongue."

Jaime laughed against her skin, which made her shiver. Using her moment of vulnerability, he pulled away once more and looked into her eyes. "I can think of a much better place my skills can be put to use."

She bit her lip. "What do you mean?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Oh, just that I had such a lovely dinner and a glass of wine... I'd like to taste something pretty extraordinary for dessert."

Flushing the most brilliant red, she got off his lap and tried to lay down beside him, parting her legs as an invitation. Jaime smiled wickedly at her, climbing across so as to get on top of her. He had almost forgotten the particular feel of the immense pleasure of being on top of Brienne, her so inviting, soft, and warm beneath him. Instinctively, he rolled his hips against hers and she groaned loudly, betraying her excitement and arousal.

"Fuck," mumbled Jaime, lifting his hand to cup her breast. "How are you so sexy?"

Brienne laughed at that and went to object, so he silenced her with his lips on hers. Kissing so hard they could taste blood, Jaime continued to thrust against her, wanting her to know how incredibly desirable she was. He had just snaked his hand down to the top of her trousers, wanting to pull them off as quickly as possible so he could get a taste of her sweet arousal, when he heard a creak. Brienne snapped her eyes open, freezing underneath him.

"Mummy," came Gal's voice from outside the door. "I heard some weird sounds. Are you hurt?"

With all the force she could muster, Brienne shoved Jaime off her and began to button up her shirt. "Don't worry sweetie, I'm absolutely fine!"

"Why were you moaning, then?" Gal asked, entering the room just as Brienne got her last button done up.

Brienne had gone almost maroon, so Jaime tried to explain. "Mummy has hurt her back, I was just giving her a little massage, that's all. Wasn't I, wench?"

"Yes," confirmed Brienne, shooting him a half-amused look. "A _little massage. _That's all. Why don't you go back to bed?"

Gal nodded, but said, "can you come and tuck me in?"

Brienne let out a little sigh, before getting to her feet and saying, "of course, darling."

Once she was halfway across the room towards Gal, Jaime smiled at her and said, "shall we call a rain check on the massage?"

She looked a little disappointed, but nodded and said, "yeah, a rain check on the massage."

* * *

In the two months that followed, Jaime never did manage to convince Brienne to let him give her _a little massage _again_. _Brienne didn't even let him return to second base; instead, they just went for a bit of innocent kissing whenever they had a moment alone. Whenever Jaime tried to sweet talk her into it, she always found another topic to discuss; her building plans for _Sweet Tooth, _Gal's dyslexia testing, how much rent Jaime was paying now he had officially moved into the spare room. One evening, he decided to confront the topic directly.

"Brienne," he said slowly, just as he handed her the cup of tea he had made her. He thought that by bearing gifts, he might have a more favourable reception.

"Mmm?" she replied, still flicking through an interior design website on her phone.

"Can we have a chat?"

"What about?"

He took a little breath for courage before saying, "taking it slowly."

That caused her to look up. "What about it?"

"Well..." he began, trying to find the words. "Although I _love _what we are doing, I never have given you that massage I owe you. I'm just a little unsure about whether you are still... interested."

She looked surprised at him. "Of course I'm interested."

"Well... why are we waiting then?"

Taking a deep breath, Brienne put her phone down next to her before looking him in the eye. "I mean... we still haven't talked."

"About what?"

"That night," she replied. Jaime didn't need to ask about _which _night in particular; the snow still made him feel cold all these years later.

"I... I... I..." he stammered, trying to think of some way to begin, but to his surprise Brienne leant forward and held his hand.

Smiling, she said, "I don't expect you to spill your guts here, right now, when I've just sprung this on you. I just think... maybe it's a good idea we go to couples’ therapy or something. Someone who can really tease out our problems might be good for us; I doubt we could do it ourselves."

Jaime suddenly felt tremendously anxious. He had always been an incredibly internal person - it was the way he was brought up he supposed - and he wasn't sure how he would take to a third person intruding into their relationship. Even so, he wanted to make her happy, so he agreed, and let her begin a search for a decent therapist.

* * *

For the next month, things continued pretty much as they had been; his friends kept pestering him about whether he and Brienne were a couple (_no_, he informed them, _we're working things out_), he finally handed in his resignation to Ellaria and took up working for the Citizen's Advice Bureau full time, he went out for dinner with Pia and Josmyn to congratulate them both for getting Gregor to back down without taking him to court, and he helped Gal with his homework.

Jaime thought this was the new normal, until at the end of the month, Brienne informed him, "I've found a decent therapist. Her name is Val Rayder. I've booked us in for a session next week."

"Oh," replied Jaime. With his conflicted feelings, he wasn't sure he had anything more constructive to offer her.

Brienne smiled at him gently before pecking him on the cheek. "Don't worry. I'll look after you."

She kept her promise the following week when they found themselves sitting in Val's office. Even as Jaime was shaking with nerves, Brienne laced her fingers through his and gave him an encouraging squeeze. "Everything will be fine," she murmured, "and hopefully this will make things easier."

Val Rayder was a forthright young woman with tresses of white blonde hair and an arresting gaze that told him she meant business. "Now," she said when she had them all sat down with a nice cup of tea, "let's start from the beginning. How did you two fall in love?"

Jaime suddenly felt Brienne tense beside him and in that moment, he realised that this would be hard for her too. She was never one to speak about her feelings. Sensing her discomfort, Jaime decided to go first. "It was pretty instantaneous for me," he stated, which earned him a look of surprise from Brienne. "I liked her feistiness from the start. We met when I was working as a barrister and I had to try and discredit her testimony in a case involving her best friend who she was secretly in love with."

"I was _not _in love with Renly," she began to object.

Jaime snorted. "You _so _were. My line of attack was so perfect because anyone could see it from a million miles off."

Brienne shook her head. "No. I thought I was in love with him, but in truth I didn't really know what love was at that point... and I never discovered it properly until I fell in love with you."

Jaime's insides went all warm and squiggly at that point, but he could do nothing to tell her that but squeeze her hand; he didn't think he had the words for it. Val then had them map the entirety of their relationship, from those early days of difficulty and dislike, to the period of teasing and tempting, right up to Brienne's fear and reluctance to sleep with him.

"It wasn't that I didn't want to sleep with you," she confessed, struggling to look at Jaime even as he tried to catch her eye, "it's just... I couldn't quite work out in what world someone who looks like _you _could ever want someone who looks like _me."_

Jaime smiled at her. "This world."

They talked out their diametrically opposed viewpoints; Jaime's almost idealised view of Brienne as his saviour, as the one who had dragged him out of the dark, to Brienne's terrible feelings of inadequacy which plagued every step of their early relationship.

"I so wanted to please you," she admitted, shuffling closer to Jaime so he could put his arm round her. "Because I was so scared that you'd run away because you are so out of my league it's ridiculous... so when you _did _run away, the only sensible thing to do was to blame myself, because the thought that you were at fault was so impossible."

They spent much of the session with their arms around each other after that admission, and it only got worse when Jaime finally admitted that the car accident had been caused by Aerys Targaryen as a form of revenge against his family. Finding it suddenly difficult to breathe because of the threatening tears, Val said reassuringly, "it's okay to get upset. Feelings are hard buggers to deal with."

The last fifteen minutes was spent with Jaime sobbing into Brienne's shoulder, while she stroked his hair. "I was just so scared that he'd do something else... I'm a Lannister after all, and I just felt I couldn't escape my past."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Brienne asked gently, "I could have helped. All that time leading up to our wedding you were torturing yourself and you never mentioned it once."

Wrapping his arms round her waist, Jaime confessed, "why would I? I didn't want to burden you with all that, not _you, _Brienne, my lovely, wonderful Brienne. Because of a grudge against my family I had lost my hand and you had nearly died. I felt broken and less of a man, not worthy of anything you were offering, so when Cersei phoned... I just thought you were better off without me."

He only realised she was crying too when she kissed him and he felt her hot tears on her cheeks, "never. Never, never, never..."

They ended the session with so many tears, hugs, and confessions, that they both felt totally emotionally drained. Looking up at Val, who had done little more than observe the last fifteen minutes, Jaime asked, "what do we do now?"

"Well," she smiled, "this was a great start. We have exposed all the problems, and now we just need a few more sessions of rebuilding. To be honest, I think it's clear you both have all the material to make a strong and lasting relationship, we just need to make sure the foundations are solid."

"Thank you," said Brienne honestly, "but what do you recommend we do now, or this evening? We've both poured our hearts out to each other... we're both feeling a bit tender."

Val's smile changed from an understanding one to a teasing one. "I think it is probably best you do a little bonding. Some couples like to go out for dinner. Some like to snuggle up and watch a film together. Others like to get a little more... _physical."_

Val's suggestion that perhaps Jaime and Brienne should have sex set an uneasy edge between them as they made their way home. Sansa had been round to babysit Gal, so when they arrived back, Jaime and Brienne let both Sansa and Gal talk at length about what they had spent the afternoon doing. As Sansa went to leave, she pulled Brienne to one side in the hallway, and Jaime could hear them whispering. He wondered what they were talking about, even as he tried to distract himself with Gal and dinner.

The rest of the evening was much the same; Brienne not _quite _looking at him and using Gal as a distraction every time Jaime tried to draw her into a conversation beyond the superficial. Eventually, she retreated into the office and went to call the architect of _Sweet Tooth, _suddenly wanting to discuss when the earliest the builders could begin work. A little sad, especially considering he had felt so _close _to her during the session, he just spent the evening with Gal, playing dinosaurs before putting his little boy to bed.

After three stories, Jaime eventually tucked the yawning Gal into bed before sneaking out. To his surprise, he found Brienne waiting for him in the hallway. "Oh," said Jaime in surprise, "I thought you were still on the phone."

"I've finished," she said gently. "What are you going to do now?"

Jaime furrowed his brow, not quite getting what she was asking. "I was just thinking of going downstairs and watching some TV that wasn't a nature documentary for once."

She let out a little chuckle, before saying, "although that's a very admirable aim... I was wondering whether we could talk?" Lifting one hand, she pointed towards her bedroom door and then beckoned him to follow. He did so without another thought.

Brienne's room was very cosy. It had a vague sea theme, to remind her of where she grew up; there was a large photograph of fishing boats on the Thames Estuary above her bed, and the duvet was a soft blue with a shell pattern on it. Shuffling inside, Jaime observed the room, trying to keep his breath steady at the intimacy she had just allowed him. Ever since he had moved in, he had not been inside her bedroom once. Whenever she wanted one of their late night cuddles, she always snuck into the spare bedroom, never the other way around.

“What’s going on?” asked Jaime confusedly as she shut her bedroom door behind her. She looked very anxious and, given her distant manner since the session, he said, “is something the matter?”

“Oh no, don’t worry,” she said, nervously wrapping her arms around her stomach. “Why don’t you sit down on the bed?” Jaime did as she said and, to his surprise, she came and sat down next to him. Brienne kept looking down at her hands rather than him, so he had to lean across and turn her face towards him so she would look at him. She was biting her lip.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” she replied. “It’s just I think… it’s probably best if you move out the spare room.”

His heart fell so swiftly it was as if he had jumped off a cliff. Dropping his hand, he stared down at it, his heart hammering and his mind reeling. Jaime needed to come up with a way to convince her that he couldn’t leave; not without his heart breaking into a million pieces again. “Brienne,” he stammered, “please… I’ve been so happy here the last few months with you and Gal. Please don’t send me away. I’ll pay double rent, I’ll…”

Her face fell in horror, before she leant forward and grasped his hand. “No… Jaime. I don’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I don’t mean to send you away.”

“Then why do you want me to move out?” he said, trying (and failing) to keep the whine out of his voice.

Like a blooming rose, her cheeks flushed a tantalising pink as she murmured, “I didn’t mean you should move out. I just thought… maybe… it was about time you… you… came and slept in here with me.” Jaime was sure his blush matched hers, but even so she kept talking. “Unless you don’t want… what I mean to say is…”

Neither of them ever heard what she meant to say, because Jaime swallowed her words when he crashed his lips into hers, pushing her back on the bed a little too forcefully. She let out a little moan of surprise, but that did not stop him. Climbing on top of her so he was straddling her, Jaime teased her mouth open with his tongue and then began exploring inside, kissing her with the desperation of a dying man. Part of him had expected her to push him away, but instead Brienne wrapped her arms around his neck and met his tongue with hers, which produced an unexpected animalistic groan at the back of his throat.

Brienne's hands slid down his back, running up and down, feeling the muscles beneath, before grasping at his shirt, pulling at the material as if she thought it an irritant. Jaime broke the kiss momentarily in order to mumble, "wench, help me with my shirt." Three hands were suddenly pulling at the buttons in an attempt to undo it as quick as possible. In her hurry, Brienne ripped off one of the buttons, but Jaime didn't care, because it meant that he was able to get partially naked even quicker.

When they had finally managed to throw it across the room, Jaime noticed that Brienne was looking up at him with wide eyes. He gave her a little grin. "What's the matter?"

"I just... I just..." she stammered.

"What?" he asked, cupping her face with his hand. She looked so beautiful but innocent in that moment. With her next words, that illusion was shattered.

"I just _want."_

And then Brienne sat up and began to run her hands across his chest, her palms flat against his pecs before she drew them downwards, catching his nipples between her fingers as she did so. She was so transfixed on what she was doing, she didn't seem to notice that she was making weird little growling sounds as she did so.

"Enjoying yourself?" teased Jaime.

"Yes," she grinned, gaining a little confidence, before leaning forward and beginning to place a line of slow kisses along his collarbone.

Finding her teasing kisses too much, he put his hand on the back of her head and, gently pulling her hair, tilted her to look up at him, his voice husky. "I know we agreed we'd go slow, but I happen to think you are wearing too many clothes, and if you don't take your shirt off right now, I'm going to rip it off you."

Laying down once more, Brienne looked up at him and began to undo the buttons of her shirt one... at... a... time. "Is this quick enough for you?"

"Wench," he gasped, reaching forward and trying desperately to help her, "no it's fucking not." Laughing, she dropped her hands to the bed and let him paw at her, undoing her buttons with clumsy fingers. It wasn't long before her shirt was open, and then Jaime wasted no time in ravishing her breasts with kissing, sucking, and biting.

"Jaime..." she breathed, "you're finally going to give me that massage you promised me."

He stopped kissing her so he could look up, his pupils blown from desire. "I'm going to do more than that, wench. I'm going to make love to you again, like I've wanted to for six whole years."

She bit her lip, betraying her desire, and then shucked off her shirt, revealing her shoulders and strong arms to him. The sight of her like that pushed Jaime over the edge, and in a moment he was on her once again, kissing, biting, and pouring all of himself into her, wanting to just let her use him for her pleasure until there was no him and her anymore, only us.

Against the force of his kisses, Brienne still demonstrated the desire to have a little control. Reaching down between them, she undid his flies and then pulled out his hard and eager cock. He hissed the second she touched him, but the look in her eye told him she was not going to relent. Slowly, she started running her hand up and down his shaft, only stopping to teasingly catch his head between her fingers.

"Fuck Brienne," he whispered, lying on his side next to her to give her better access. "_Fuck._"

"Do you like that, Jaime?" she breathed, clearly wanting to play the flirtatious coquette.

Jaime found he couldn't reply in actual words, just satisfied groans that perhaps contained her name. Leaning forward, he began to kiss her ear as she stroked him, which elicited a keening whine from her, and then began to run his hand down her chest towards her trousers. Fumbling with her flies, he tried to get them open so he could give her the same pleasure she was giving him, but somewhat irritatingly she was winning the race.

"Brienne," he managed to murmur into her ear when it became too much. She had spent so long rubbing and stroking him that he was now aching with desire for her. "Please stop... I can't last much longer if you keep doing _that._" Grinning at him, she gave him a couple more slow rubs, which set his traitorous cock leaking with want. "You're so bad..." he managed to murmur as she finally took her hand off him and began to help him with her flies.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she purred, pushing her trousers off and looking at him expectantly. He didn't give her much time to ready herself. Settling himself between her legs, Jaime put his fingers beneath the soft material of her underwear at set about exploring the soaking warmth of her. As she started moaning, he found he couldn't shut up.

"I've missed this so much... I've missed _you,_" he said as he slid one finger into her hot and wanting cunt. "God, you are so wet for me, wench... I love it... I love you... how are you this amazing?" Slipping a second finger inside and catching her hardened nub with this thumb, he picked up the pace.

"Jaime..." she moaned, reaching forward to grasp his arm, as if to encourage him, so he kept going.

"Fuck... you feel so good... so tight... love you... love this." When he could feel her getting close, she pulled him upwards for a kiss, meaning that when her cunt began to flutter and then clench around his fingers in her moment of release, her desperate grunt of enjoyment was sounded into his mouth. Jaime kept fucking her with his fingers as she came, knowing she preferred it this way, and he was rewarded with some grateful little moans that just made him ache for her more.

When she finally came down from her high, she broke the kiss, looked him straight in the eye and said, "as you fuck me, I want you to talk to me."

"Okay," he agreed between kisses, all the while trying to get the rest of his own clothes off. "What do you want me to say?"

"How you feel about me," she replied. "I want to know you love me."

Touched by the heart breaking simplicity of her statement, he kissed her gently before saying, "I _do _love you, Brienne, and I'll spend the rest of my life showing you." Once he was fully naked, he settled himself back between her thighs before looping both his arms under her back so he could grip her shoulders. Wanting nothing more than to feel her burning body against his, he lined himself up at her opening before looking her in the eye and saying, "tell me you want this."

"I want this."

Not waiting a moment longer, Jaime slid inside her, and they both let out matching groans of satiated desire. As he gently began to thrust into her, Brienne lifted her legs and locked them around his hips, as if to tell him to go _faster, harder, deeper _without using words. Burying her face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder, she began to kiss and bite him, determined to mark him.

"I'm yours," he purred into her ear in response. "Make me yours, Brienne... I love you so much... fuck... I've missed this... I love you, sweetheart... mmm... grr... ah... I love it... I love you... please... yes... oh, you feel so good..."

As their coupling became frantic and needy, Brienne began to pull him to her tighter, one hand on his back and the other in his hair, gripping and tugging as if he were her toy to play with. "Brienne," he moaned, perilously close to his release. Pulling back, he wanted to see her face, see the look in her eyes as he spilt himself inside her. Recognising that need, she took her hands from his body and placed them on his cheeks. The sudden intimacy brought tears to his eyes.

"I love you, Brienne..." he murmured, a tear falling from his eye and landing on her cheek. "I love you... I've always... always... loved you. Brienne... Brienne..."

As he came, he was shouting her name, and feel of his heat inside her and the sound of him calling her seemed to push her over the edge too. They clutched at each other as they shivered at their joint release, intensely vulnerable in a way they had never quite permitted before, even six years ago. Jaime thrust inside her a few more times, overcome by bliss as she held him and placed gentle kisses on his cheeks, his lips, his eyelids, his nose. Once he came down from his high, he didn't want to move, so he kept his arms round her, settled his weight on her, and stayed inside her as he softened. Brienne didn't seem to mind; she put her hand on his head and settled it into the crook of her neck, before placing a delicate kiss on the bridge of his nose.

"I love you too, Jaime, and I always have."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! Please let me know what you thought in a lovely comment!
> 
> Next chapter... it's one thing accepting, another announcing it to the world...


	25. Taster Sessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne tell their friends and family they are back together... with mixed results...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks for coming back for another chapter! As ever, I luuuurrrrvvveeee comments and kudos, so please consider leaving them if you are enjoying my story!

"Well, we haven't done that in a while," said Jaime, tucking himself into the curve of Brienne's back and slinging an arm around her waist, loving the feel of her sweaty and naked next to him.

"No," she agreed, turning her head so she could kiss his cheek. "We haven't. I've missed it."

He smiled at her. "So have I. We should do it more."

"Okay," she giggled. "Deal."

There was a beat of silence before Jaime said, "I don't know how I've gone six years without it."

"I know how I have," Brienne replied teasingly.

"How?" asked Jaime, genuinely curious. Shuffling away from him for a moment, Brienne reached for her phone on the bedside cabinet. She then returned to her former position beside him and laid on her back, her eyes intent on her screen. Jaime could see she was imputing loads of passwords into her phone, before opening a folder of photos and videos that she started scrolling through. It took Jaime a moment to realise what he was looking at.

"They're all of me..."

Brienne went a little red as she said, "yeah, they are."

Jaime was dumbfounded. "And you've had these on your phone the whole time?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "I sometimes just liked to look at photos of you, that's all."

"I'm naked in that one," he said, amused. "Is that how you've been getting yourself off?"

That made her go even redder, before she replied with, "not quite. _This _is my preferred method." At that, she slipped one of the earphones into his ear before rolling over to face him and looking expectantly at him. Jaime then heard some fumbling around, some kissing sounds, some heavy breathing, and then his own voice.

“Oh wench, you are so tight, so good, so… _urgh… _Brienne… kiss me, mmm, mmm… oh god, yes, just like that…"

Jaime opened his mouth in shock. "Wench, are you trying to tell me..."

"That I've been touching myself to our attempt at a sex tape?" she asked, clearly trying to turn him on but looking a bit nervous about it at the same time. "Yeah, I am."

Jaime was absolutely gobsmacked. "But... but... but..."

"Shh..." she said, smiling. "Just listen... and kiss me while you are doing it."

Jaime obeyed her in a second, but remained stuck in a weird space between confused and aroused as he did so.

_We've been apart six years and she kept the video! _Jaime thought happily.

He knew _he'd _kept the video, but he would never admit it so freely as Brienne just did. Jaime liked her confidence... and was also slightly terrified of her. He supposed there had always been that dynamic in their relationship. His mind whirring, he pulled away so he could look at her. She really was beautiful like this; her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen from kissing, and her chest pushing against his as she breathed heavily with desire. Trying to block out the sound of his own voice saying the most embarrassing things, Jaime tried to focus on her; both the keening sounds she was making in the video and the Brienne who was getting increasingly turned on in front of him.

When Jaime moved away, Brienne opened her eyes. "Are you alright?" she said, suddenly looking a bit worried. "This isn't freaking you out or anything is it?"

He leant forward and gave her a quick kiss, before stroking her cheek and looking into her stunning eyes. "No, it's not freaking me out. I'm just curious."

"About what?"

"What you like about this video," he continued, biting his lip. "It's just... it's been six years. I want to make sure I'm doing it right."

She smiled at him, her eyes warm, before resting her hand on top of his. "You are doing it right. I like... I like how affectionate you are in this video, and that's just how you were earlier."

Jaime felt himself blushing like a schoolboy in front of the girl he had a crush on, and he was just about able to stammer, "I'm glad."

When she leant forward to kiss him again, he went to run his hand through her hair, knocking her earphone out in the process. She broke the kiss to pick it up again, but he stopped her by gently grasping her roots and turning her to look at him. "No," he whispered, "let me."

As he didn't go to pick up the earphone, Brienne looked at him quizzically. "Let you do what?"

Carefully pushing her onto her back, Jaime climbed on top of her and then leant down to whisper in her ear, "let me do it for real."

For their second time of attempt two at being in a relationship, he made sure it was as full of as much love and affection as the first, and as much as he felt inside.

* * *

Jaime made sure he was back in the spare bedroom by the time Gal woke up, and that he was ready and dressed in time to take his son to school. He had agreed when Brienne suggested this may be the best course of action; after six years apart, it would be better to ease Gal in slowly to the idea of his parents being back together, rather than give him the shock of his Daddy coming out of Mummy's room looking slightly dishevelled first thing in the morning.

On their second night together, he waited for the sound of Gal's snoring to sneak into Brienne's room. That night, Jaime asked Brienne to get on top, and he ended up groaning with desire so loudly that she had to put a hand over his mouth to stop him shouting the house down. The night after, he took her from behind, and she almost bit his fingers when he attempted to keep her quiet. After she nearly drew blood, Jaime decided the best thing to do was just to whisper in her ear. "Quiet wench, I know you love it, you fucking love it, but you've got to be _quiet. _Be quiet for me, and I'll go slow... yes, slow... fuck, just like that..." Once they finished, he had to concede that even though she had succeeded in being quiet, he hadn't shut up the whole way through.

On a Sunday, a week after their first night together, Jaime dared to stay in Brienne's bed a little longer than usual. Gal normally slept in later at the weekend, so Jaime decided to risk it. That turned out to be a good gamble, because Brienne ended up pulling him close and they had a lovely, lazy, languid morning fuck, him on top, her grasping at him, and their tongues duelling.

Jaime was _so close _when there was a loud bang as the bedroom door crashed open and Gal came in, looking a little panic-stricken. "STOP MATING," he yelled. "NEXT DOOR'S CAT IS IN THE KITCHEN."

Without another word, Gal dashed from the room and could be heard thundering down the stairs. Jaime turned back to Brienne and tried to continue what they had been doing, but she pushed him off with an amused look. When he pouted at her, she just laughed.

"Mating?" Jaime said, "where the hell did he pick that up from?"

"Maybe the nature documentaries were a bad idea," Brienne chuckled as she rolled out of bed and picked her nightie up off the floor. "They are about the birds and bees after all."

Jaime smiled, getting out of bed to wrap his arms around her. "Are you really going to abandon me for next door's cat?" he asked, a little downhearted. "I'm still rock hard."

"Yes," she giggled, "but you still have your left hand, don't you?"

Jaime narrowed his eyes at her teasingly. "I do, but now Gal seems to be fully aware that Mummy and Daddy are back together, I don't see any reason why you can't... help me out."

"Because next door's cat is in the kitchen," she said, suddenly the imperious school mistress, "and Gal is freaking out."

Jaime sighed, before repeating wearily, "because next door's cat is the kitchen, and Gal is freaking out."

So, instead of finishing their lovely, lazy, languid morning fuck, Jaime and Brienne spent half an hour helping Gal try to chase the world's most terrifying Siamese Cat out of their house. In the process, Gal managed to knock one of Brienne's dad's hand carved wooden ornaments off the side, and a little piece fell off. Looking a little sad, Gal reached down and picked it up off the floor.

"I'm sorry," he said, pushing the arm of the figurine back to the main body in an attempt to magically stick it back together. His bottom lip started wobbling as he said, "I didn't mean to."

"I know sweetie," said Brienne gently, running her hand through his hair. "It was an accident. I can probably fix it with my craft set."

As Gal knew where Brienne kept her craft set, he said, "shall I go and take it up to yours and Daddy's room then? For later."

Jaime gave Brienne an uneasy look, but she took it like water off a duck's back and said, "yes, that sounds like a good idea. Just leave it on the dressing table."

After Gal had skipped off upstairs with the ornament, Jaime turned to Brienne and said, "so... are we taking that as Gal knowing and accepting that we are together again?"

She shrugged. "I suppose so. He does think we're mating after all."

"Well we _are _mating, wench," purred Jaime. "You're my mate."

"Oh, am I?" she asked teasingly.

He looked a little nervous before saying, "yes?"

Cupping his face with her hands, she kissed him gently, whispering, "of course I am. And you, Jaime, are _my _mate."

He felt stupidly heart warmed at that statement, so pulled her in for a kiss.

* * *

It was one thing that Gal knew, another thing entirely to tell their friends and family, who were aware of every excruciating detail of what had happened between them over the nine years they had been entangled and would definitely have _opinions _on the matter.

"What do you think is the best way to tell them?" Jaime asked Brienne one night when they were lying in bed. "TV Broadcast? Get one of those planes with a big sign?"

"I don't know," said Brienne honestly, resting her head on his chest. "I just think other than my dad, I'm not really ready to tell anyone else quite just yet."

"Why not?" asked Jaime, genuinely surprised.

She turned to look up at him and planted a delicate kiss on the tip of his nose, "because I want you all to myself for just a tiny bit longer. Is that okay?"

"Of course," replied Jaime, playing with her hair. "But you know you have me all to yourself already, don't you?"

"I do," she smiled, squeezing him a little tighter.

Jaime would have been happy with that plan, if it hadn't included the exemption of Brienne's dad. The prospect of Selwyn Tarth _terrified_Jaime. After he had left Brienne at the Winterfell Hotel, it had come to Jaime's attention through the grapevine that if Selwyn ever saw him again, he would rip him limb from limb, skin him alive, and then use his body parts in his next set of handmade ornaments.

"I'm sure dad was just joking," Brienne reassured Jaime when he found himself standing on Selwyn's porch with her and Gal a week later.

"He bloody well wasn't," he mumbled in response, as Brienne gave him an admonishing look for daring to mutter a swear word in the vicinity of Gal.

Jaime was trapped in a kind of torturous silence until the door swung open to reveal Selwyn Tarth in his painting overalls. Luckily, the situation was somewhat ameliorated by the presence of a cute six-year-old, who instantly leapt into Selwyn's arms shouting, "Granddad! I brought my Pterodactyl toy to show you!"

Selwyn gave Gal a quick hug before saying, "brilliant! Why don't you go and set it up in the lounge?" Galloping past, Gal then made his way into the house, leaving Selwyn to turn to the two adults in front of him. He turned to Brienne first, a broad grin on his face as he drew her into a hug and said, "Starburst! How are you?"

"I'm good," she smiled, giving him a peck on the cheek, "you?"

"Not too bad," he replied, clearly not interested in getting into the minutiae of his day now _Jaime fucking Lannister _was standing in front of him for the first time in six years. Turning to his former future son-in-law, Selwyn gave him a tight smile, then said, "_Jaime_."

"Selwyn," Jaime replied, trying to keep the quiver out of his voice. "It's nice to see you."

"Can't say the same," Selwyn said bluntly, before looking at Brienne. "Is he taking Gal after your visit?"

Brienne smiled at him; it looked a little pained, but Jaime could tell she was trying to be conciliatory. "Something like that. Can we come in?"

Selwyn seemed a little reluctant, but eventually he gave a hand gesture that indicated they both should follow. He took them both to the kitchen, where he turned his back to them and started making the tea. "Do you want sugar with your tea, Starburst?"

"No, I'm alright, just milk is fine for me." At her instruction, Selwyn got out two garish mugs from the cupboard, popped the tea bags in, and turned the kettle on. Noticing, Brienne said, "are you not having one, Dad?"

Selwyn chuckled, not looking at her. "Oh yes. I'm having one. _He's _not."

Since they had been going to the therapy sessions with Val, Jaime had been making baby steps before leaving his overwhelming sense of inadequacy behind. He _was _good enough for Brienne, because she loved him and he loved her, and that was all that mattered. Yet now, faced with Selwyn's endless hostility, Jaime could feel the old darkness threatening him once more. That feeling was only softened when Brienne took his hand in hers. Squeezing his fingers, he could sense she was trying to tell him wordlessly _don't worry, I love you. I want you. You are good enough. _He gave her a little smile of thanks just at the moment Selwyn turned around and was faced with the sight of his beloved Starburst holding hands with the good-for-nothing _Jaime fucking Lannister._

"Please tell me you are joking, Brienne," said Selwyn, his tone disappointed rather than harsh.

"No, I'm not," said Brienne gently. "Jaime and I are back together."

"Does Gal know?" asked Selwyn, "because if he doesn't you still have time to change your mind."

Brienne squeezed Jaime's fingers once more before saying, "yes, he does know. He's very happy at the prospect."

At that moment, Jaime discovered Selwyn's nostrils flared in the exact same way that Brienne's did when she was angry. "Well he would, wouldn't he? He's a six-year-old who doesn't know what that man did to you. How can you think this is a good idea? You can't trust him!"

"I can trust him," Brienne insisted as Jaime's heart soared in appreciation. "I _do _trust him. We're working on things... our issues... we're going to see a therapist... we're..."

"Why are you bothering?" snapped Selwyn. "He left you at the altar!"

"It was two days before the wedding, _actually,_" Brienne corrected him. Jaime would have laughed if it wasn't so serious; that was the exact excuse he had used when he was a useless waste of space who couldn't take responsibility for his own actions. Knowing it was a fruitless argument, Jaime tried to head for something better to convince Selwyn.

"No, Brienne," Jaime began, his voice quiet. "Don't try and hide what I did. I basically left you at the altar." He could tell this was bringing up all sorts of old hurt for her, so it was his turn to squeeze her fingers before he turned to her extremely irritated father. "It was a stupid, cruel, heartless thing to do. It was the worst thing I've done in my life and I've spent these six years regretting it and trying to work out how I could have ever done something that awful to Brienne, who is one of the best things to ever happen to me."

Selwyn's expression softened slightly at that. "Well... I'm glad you can at least acknowledge what you've done."

"I _do _acknowledge it," said Jaime, trying to keep the lump in his throat from totally derailing what he was trying to say. "I've apologised to Brienne and she has been gracious enough to accept it. I'll apologise to you too if you want, because I know it must have broken your heart to see your daughter hurting that much. So, I'm sorry Selwyn, truly, for what I did. Brienne, because she's the best woman on the planet, has found it in her heart to forgive me. I'm not sure if I deserve it, but she has, and we're trying to make it work. I'm not saying you should forgive me so quickly; I know what I did was inexcusable and most of us mere mortals can't be as good as her. I'm just asking for a chance to let me show you that I have changed and that I am trying to be better; for Gal, for Brienne, and for our family." Pausing to steady himself, Jaime took a breath before continuing. "I've always respected your opinion, Selwyn, and it would mean the world to me if you were able to do that... but, I can understand if you can't. Either way, I will always be civil to you, because I don't want to make this difficult for Brienne or Gal. Can you do the same?"

Jaime had expected to wait for Selwyn's judgement in tense silence, but to his surprise, Brienne turned to him and wrapped her arms around him before pecking him on the cheek. She then turned back to her dad and gave him the most impossible to resist puppy dog eyes. If Jaime was in Selwyn's shoes, he would have melted.

The judgement came in an unexpected form. Turning back to the cupboard, Selwyn got a third mug out before saying gruffly, "do you want sugar in your tea, Jaime?"

Jaime thought he would have fallen to the floor in relief if Brienne wasn't there to hold him up.

* * *

Even though the little group that knew about their relationship was now growing, Brienne was still reluctant to spill the beans to everybody and she told Jaime as much before the next big gathering of their friends. As she was extending _Sweet Tooth_, Brienne had also decided to play with the menu, and had organised a taste testing session with the usual crowd. Most of the Jaime Lannister Support Group was coming; Loras and Renly, Sansa, Margaery, Bronn, and Tyrion and Tysha. Jaime had also invited Olenna, but she was going on a wine tasting weekend in the Dordogne with Jeor Mormont, who she was having a fling with after meeting him on Tinder. It was probably better that way; Jaime had always suspected that Olenna could read his mind, so if he intended to keep the reality of his and Brienne's relationship quiet a bit longer, it was probably a good thing she wasn't there.

On the evening of the taster session, however, it became very apparent that their friends might work out what was going on without the ability to mind read because the previous night, Brienne had been very assiduous in planting a line of love bites all the way down Jaime's neck.

"I look like I've been attacked by a vampire," he said, examining the marks in the mirror. "A very hungry vampire."

Brienne came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm sorry, it's just you are so delicious, my love."

"Thank you," he smiled, tilting his head to give her access to the other side of his neck. "There's still a few places you missed just here if you are still peckish."

She laughed, planting a quick kiss to just where he was pointing, before crossing the room to the wardrobe. "Although I would very much like to, I think I've already done enough damage. It's going to be difficult to cover this up."

"What do you recommend?" Jaime asked. "Foundation?"

Brienne shook her head. "No. It's a warm evening. It will come off instantly. We're going to have to go for something a little more drastic."

Although she had been very pleased with herself, an hour later, Jaime was less than impressed to find himself sitting in _Sweet Tooth _between Brienne and Gal wearing the most hideous orange turtleneck jumper that he had thought he had thrown away years ago.

"That is the ugliest jumper I have ever seen," Bronn said as Brienne served up the first slice of cake. "Is there any particular reason you have decided to try and blind us all by wearing it, Jaime?"

As Jaime was struggling to find a response, he was immensely grateful that Brienne cut across the conversation. "This is a lemon and poppyseed muffin. Can you please give it a mark out of ten and add comments on the sheets provided?"

"Only if you tell Jaime to take it off," smirked Loras. "It's really hurting my eyes."

Brienne blushed slightly, "Jaime doesn't want me telling him to take his clothes off."

There was a knowing chuckle at the entire group at that statement, so Jaime stared down at his muffin as Tyrion joked, "oh, _doesn't he?"_

Luckily, after only a few more minutes of gentle ribbing the conversation moved on to other things. Brienne's cakes were all wonderful in his opinion, so Jaime was being highly unhelpful and just writing variations on "10, Delicious" as a review to every single one she offered him. The others were more discerning.

"I'm not sure about the chilli in this Chocolate Chilli one," Tysha announced. "I love the combo, but I think as it stands it is a little overpowering."

Margaery nodded. "I agree. I love the lick of spice it gives it, but at the moment its closer to blowing my head off than just giving me a little tickle."

"Yeah, this one's gross," was Gal's very tactful addition to that conversation.

By the time Brienne brought out the Caramac Cupcakes, Renly and Loras were busy canvassing opinions on appropriate artwork to have in one's bedroom. "We've just painted the walls this really gorgeous navy blue," said Renly to everybody, "so the painting of the rainbow cow we used to have now clashes, so we want something else. Maybe some photography of some sort?"

"Or maybe just something more subtle than a colourful bovine animal," Loras interjected. "What do you all think?"

Sansa spoke first. "Well my friend Jeyne Poole has just started painting again after getting out of a bad break-up. It's all very tense and dramatic though - about lived experience - so it might not be the happiest thing to have in your bedroom."

"Why don't you get a photo of the local scenery?" suggested Tyrion. "The skyline of London, or some boats on the Thames or something."

"Yes!" chirped Gal, agreeing with his uncle. "Pictures of boats are perfect!"

Renly let out an affectionate little laugh, "why do you say that, Gal?"

"Because that's what Mummy and Daddy have in their bedroom and it looks really nice."

The collective gasp was instantaneous, while Jaime choked on his piece of Caramac Cupcake and Brienne dropped the knife she was trying to pass to Tysha on the floor. Totally oblivious to what he had just done, Gal turned to Brienne and said, "Mummy, can I have some orange juice?"

"Yes," Brienne agreed timidly, appearing from under the table with the knife, her face bright red. "Of course you can. It's in the fridge in the kitchen."

Jumping off his seat, Gal merrily skipped off in search of his favourite beverage, leaving Jaime and Brienne to deal with the truth bomb he'd unwittingly set off in the middle of the taster session.

Once he had gone, Tyrion started grinning broadly. "_Mummy and Daddy's bedroom. _Now _that's _an interesting piece of gossip."

"Brienne!" squeaked Sansa, "why didn't you tell me?"

Shooting Jaime a quick look, Brienne turned back to Sansa to say, "there's nothing to tell."

Sansa snorted. "Except for the fact that you and Jaime are apparently sleeping in the same bedroom after six years."

"Same bed," interjected Margaery, stating the obvious.

"I _knew _you were fucking her!" Bronn crowed, wagging a finger at Jaime.

_Why does he always have to put it so crudely? _Jaime thought distantly.

"Bronn, I'm _not _fucking her." That earned him a slightly wounded expression from Brienne - god that woman loved giving out contradictory signals - so Jaime tried rephrasing. "I mean I _am _fucking her, but it's not just fucking... is it? We haven't really talked about it... I don't know if she wants... if _you _want..." Realising that everyone was now staring at him incredulously, Jaime turned to Brienne to wordlessly ask for help.

Noticing his expression, she took his hand and squeezed his fingers, just as she had when they announced the news to Selwyn. Brienne's eyes were very wide, very blue, and very beautiful as she said, "I know we haven't really talked about this, Jaime, but am I your girlfriend?"

"If you want to be my girlfriend," he grinned with relief, letting go of her hand so he could wrap his arms around her and pull her close.

"I do," she replied, her eyes brightened by smiling. "Do you want to be my boyfriend?"

"God, yes."

"Well that's settled then isn't?" she said, leaning forward to give him a quick peck on the lips. "Boyfriend and Girlfriend." Even though he knew he had a stupid grin on his face, Jaime looked back at everybody else, his arms still around Brienne.

"Is there some champagne out there with that orange juice?" Tyrion smiled, looking at the door through which Gal had gone. "I feel we need to celebrate you two getting your heads out of your arses."

Brienne tutted, rolling her eyes. "I've already given you drinks. If you have anymore, you won't be able to accurately mark my cakes."

Sansa raised her eyebrows at Brienne. "You do realise that Jaime has given every single one you've put on the table a ten, even that disgustingly awful one with the chilli, and that's _without _alcohol."

"And now we know why," smirked Renly.

Brienne blushed furiously as she stared over at Jaime's sheet, taking in every number and every highfalutin comment. "Jaime!" she chided, "I need _accuracy _here. I need to know what you really think!"

"This is what I really think," he insisted, squeezing her hip with his hand, melting at how adorable she looked when cross. "They're made by you, so of _course _I think they're delicious, because _you _are a super talented baker... and delicious."

Drawn in by his flirting, Brienne gave him a little smile before whispering in his ear, "not as delicious as you."

Even as he smiled at her playful comment, it also reminded him of a conversation they had earlier in the evening. "Now everybody knows, can I take this awful jumper off? It's bloody hot in here."

Brienne went a little red, but then agreed and said, "okay. It seems there's no point making any attempt at keeping you to myself for a while."

Jaime was glad he had put on a vest top underneath - just in case Brienne had allowed him to take off the world's ugliest jumper - but he hadn't been suspecting the raucous laughter that would greet him when they did. Love bites were apparently hysterical.

"Oh Jaime," guffawed Bronn, "I didn't realise she was so vicious."

"Shut up and eat your cake," Brienne growled, clearly not liking having her moves in the bedroom teased.

Jaime smiled. "I wouldn't say _vicious_. Just very enthusiastic in showing her affections." He earned a jab in the ribs for that. "Ow!"

"You can shut up and eat your cake too," Brienne ordered. "Just because you are my boyfriend again, it doesn't mean you can make fun of me like that."

"I'm not making fun!" Jaime parried. "I like your overenthusiastic affections!"

Sansa lifted her glass of gin and tonic at that statement. "Let's make a toast. To overenthusiastic affections!"

"To overenthusiastic affections!" everybody cheered, just as Gal came back in with his orange juice and became determined to clink glasses with everyone sat at the table.

When everyone had once again settled in to drinking and eating cake, Jaime turned and gazed at Brienne, who he suddenly realised looked happier than he had seen her in years. The stress lines around her eyes were gone, her hair shining, and her eyes clear. The sight almost overwhelmed his full to bursting heart, so he leaned in to kiss her.

"I love you, wench," he whispered, "and I'll try everything in my power to make you happy."

"Right back at ya," she said, before exchanging his kiss for one of hers.

They only broke apart when Tyrion cleared his throat, smiled teasingly, and asked them a question.

"So... when's the wedding?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHH! So next time is the last chapter :( I have really loved writing this story; it had been a real challenge mixing the heartbreak with the comedy, so I hope you think I was successful. Please leave me a lovely comment to let me know your thoughts and feelings...
> 
> Next chapter... I think I might leave this a surprise!


	26. White Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion's question gets answered...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo.... the last chapter of this fic. I've had so much fun writing it and I want to thank everyone for taking the time to read it. If you liked it, please consider leaving comments and kudos: I like to know how I'm doing!

_So... when's the wedding?_

_So... when's the wedding?_

_So... when's the wedding?_

Tyrion's little joke went around and around Jaime's head for days, weeks, months, and years after his brother had actually said it. It was not because he was scared or anxious about the prospect of being married to Brienne - the thought of her gliding up the aisle in a white dress looking that the angel he saw her as was a tantalising prospect - it's just he thought she wouldn't want to. Not after last time. Not after what he did. So, he didn't propose when they celebrated their second first anniversary, nor when they went on a romantic weekend to Venice, nor when Margaery got engaged for the four-hundred and seventieth time and Brienne started to feel a little inadequate. Jaime didn't even broach the topic in a jokey way at any point, because he feared her reaction.

"As if I'm ever going to try that with you again."

"You are never taking me back there... never. I won't allow it."

"It will be embarrassing. It will just remind everyone of the first time."

Even though he dreamed of it, and sometimes lingered a little too long outside jewellers wondering what ring Brienne would like, he never did anything about it. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought she would let him be her boyfriend again, and a proper father to Gal, so he didn't want to push his luck. He just focussed on being the best he could be for his family.

Jaime never dared ask for anything more.

For Gal's eighth birthday they took him to London Zoo. Earlier in the week, he had had a birthday party at the _Rainforest Cafe, _but on the day itself Gal wanted to lead his parents round the zoo telling him facts and asking questions about the animals they encountered.

"Did you know that capybaras are the world's largest rodents?"

"Dad, do you think zebra are black with white stripes or white with black stripes?"

"Hippos are actually really fast runners. They can get to speeds up to thirty miles an hour!"

Jaime indulged Gal's love for wildlife with enthusiasm, listening to all his stories and asking questions. It was a fun day, but Jaime couldn't help but notice that Brienne seemed a little distant; she only picked at her food at lunch and wasn't nearly so enthusiastic as Jaime in listening to Gal's excitement about the zoo. Her mood didn't improve when they got home and watched Gal open his presents and blow out the candles on his birthday cake.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" Jaime asked her as Gal was running around the living room trying out a new remote controlled T-Rex.

"Fine," she said stiffly. "We can talk later."

After Jaime tucked Gal into bed, he went to have a quick shower himself, a coil of anxiety in his belly about Brienne. His feeling was validated once he went into his and Brienne's bedroom to find her sitting on the bed. Her skin was blotchy, her eyes red, and it was clear she had been crying. Jaime was at her side in an instant.

"What's the matter?" he asked gently, slinging an arm round her shoulder. "You've obviously been upset all day."

"I'm not upset," she confessed tearfully, "I'm just... a mix of emotions right now..."

That just confused him, so he shuffled closer to her. "Tell me. What's bothering you?"

She turned to look at him. "You are going to think I'm a right idiot."

"I promise I won't," he grinned. "Maybe an idiot, but never a _right _idiot."

That finally elicited a smile from her, and he could feel her shoulders relaxing underneath his arms. "So, I don't quite know how to tell you this... but I think Gal is going to have a sibling."

Jaime didn't know what he had been expecting, but it wasn't that, and his mouth dropped open. "You're pregnant?"

It was so different from the last time. With Gal, she had summoned him to a miserable little cafe - _The Pennytree _\- to tell him. It had been the first time they had seen each other since the whole Winterfell Hotel debacle, and he had expected that she was offering him a chance to explain and find a way back into her life. Instead, she had been as cold as the North Pole and declared that she was having his baby and didn't want him anywhere near her until the baby was in her arms and then (and only then) could he be Gal's father. That time, Jaime had gone home and sobbed himself to sleep over what an idiot he was. Now, he wanted to cry with joy.

"Yeah," she admitted. "I've taken three tests and they've all come back the same. If only I'd been more diligent with the Pill. If only..."

Jaime didn't want to hear any more _if only. _Cupping her cheek with his hand he pulled her in for a deep kiss, and he felt her relax against him. When they broke apart, her blue eyes were shining. "You're not angry?"

"Angry?" he asked incredulously. "Why would I be angry? We're going to be parents again. I'm ecstatic!"

Her smile blossomed, warm and affectionate. "Really?"

"Really," he confirmed. "With Gal, I never got to be there for you in the way I wanted to be, in the right way. This time I'll be at every scan, every appointment. I'll hold your hair and rub your back when you get sick. I'll go and get you every stupid food you crave. I'll massage your shoulders and your feet when they hurt. I'll fuck you from behind and be gentle with your tits and eat you out to make sure you still get all your needs met, because I hear pregnant women are insatiable for nine months..."

That made her giggle. "Jaime!"

"What? I will. This is what I wanted to do last time and couldn't, so this time I'll be most attentive. I promise."

"Do you?" she teased.

"What?"

"Promise me that you'll eat me out when I ask?"

Jaime grinned at her. "Anything my wench asks of me, I will do."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "What if I asked you right now?"

"Your wish is my command," he smirked.

* * *

At the first scan, it turned out Gal wasn't going to have one sibling, but two.

"Twins!" gasped Brienne, slightly horrified both at the thought of having to push two babies out instead of one, and what that would mean for their little family. "How are we going to afford that?" she asked, turning from the doctor to Jaime.

He just grinned at her. "I don't know. I don't really care, but isn't it brilliant?"

Even though he was effusively positive to Brienne's face (whose natural disposition made her disposed to be fretful), inside he was a little worried. Jaime knew what it was like to be a twin. He and Cersei had grown up together like a tree and an ivy, never knowing who the solid trunk was and who the parasite. Gal was also jubilant about the news but expressed it in talking about animals.

"Did you know that armadillos normally have identical twins? Are you going to have identical twins, Mum?"

"I don't know yet, sweetheart," Brienne had said, "but you'll be the first to know when I find out."

Over the next few months, Jaime experienced the utter joy of watching Brienne bloom and swell with the weight of their babies. As promised, he massaged her feet, went to every scan, and generally looked after her as well as he could. He was rewarded for his dutiful service, because what he had heard about pregnant women turned out to be true. After one particularly adventurous evening of Brienne telling him how to fuck her, they spooned while he cupped her breasts, which were now more a handful than a mouthful.

"You've brutalised me, wench," pouted Jaime teasingly. "I hurt all over."

She just laughed. "You were just keeping your promises."

"I was," he conceded, "but I didn't realise it would make my jaw ache this much."

Brienne giggled as she turned her head to peck him on the cheek. "Awww. Poor Jaime. And I thought you liked giving me oral sex."

"Oh, I do," he smirked. "I just didn't know you'd be this demanding."

"Don't you know me by now? I've always been demanding."

"In some ways," he agreed, "but mostly you are just loving and giving and _good._"

Never one to take a compliment, she patted him chidingly and said, "oh hush."

"No, I won't," he said, his voice softening. "I love you so much, and I am just so thankful you are carrying our babies, and sharing your bed with me, and have let me back into your life."

Then it was her turn to be tender. "Jaime, please don't. I don't want you to feel guilty forever. You don't need to apologise anymore."

He squeezed her tighter. "But I do. What I did was so terrible, and I know that there are some things we just can't do because of what happened."

Brienne looked at him curiously. "What things?"

He tried not to blush. "I know I can't ever ask you to marry me again and have you accept. That would be too much for me to ask."

"Why do you think that?" she said, her eyes going wide.

"Well..." he began, trying to find the words. "I don't want to ever put you in a position where you have to relive what I did. It was bad enough the first time. And even though I want you to be my wife, it would be selfish for me to ask considering everything I put you through."

At that, Brienne rolled over, the bump and the babies pushing against him as she cupped his face with her hands. "But don't you see it could make everything better? It could wash away the past if we actually succeeded in walking up the aisle and saying _I do _in front of everyone? It would replace a bad memory with a good one."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you seriously saying that you would say yes if I asked?"

"Of course I would."

The next day Jaime went to the jewellers and bought an engagement ring he had been eyeing up for some time, then that evening, after he massaged her feet, he got down on one knee and proposed.

He cried when she said yes.

* * *

After Brienne gave birth to the twins, Jaime made the most of his opportunity and hugged her, and them, and Gal, and told them all how much he loved them. Naming their daughter had been surprisingly easy; they both thought she was a feisty kickass sort of a girl, as she came into the world screaming her head off, so Rohanne Olenna Lannister-Tarth had seemed the perfect name.

For their son, they had agreed on Duncan as a first name as it was inoffensive to everyone, but Jaime kept fighting Brienne on the middle name. "No. It will be bad luck."

"Why would it be bad luck?"

"Because _I'm _bad luck."

She rolled her eyes. "No you are not. You are my lovely fiancé. You are a great dad. You are _Jaime fucking Lannister. _That's why we are going to call our son Duncan Jaime Lannister-Tarth."

In the end, he had given in. He always gave in.

Then, even though they were both tired, exhausted, and nearly permanently covered in baby sick, they set about planning the wedding. Jaime asked her if she wanted to go somewhere exotic, somewhere far away where it could just be the two of them. Brienne shuddered at that suggestion.

"No. That's what Hyle wanted to do so we could avoid inviting our friends and family. But surely everyone being there to wish us the best is the whole point?"

"As long as you are sure."

"I am sure," she smiled. "Besides, I've known where I want to get married since the age of five." That declaration made Jaime feel nervous; she was talking about the Sapphire Chapel in Edinburgh, where her mother was buried. It was where they had been planning to get married last time, and he knew how well that had gone. Reading his expression like a book, Brienne squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "Calm down. I'm not going to get upset if some things are the same as last time."

"I might," said Jaime, trying to be jocular, but instead it came out tinged with seriousness.

Brienne sighed, "don't be. We can make it a happy occasion, a beautiful occasion. We won't need to be sad about it anymore."

Once again, Jaime had agreed, even though he had his reservations. They booked the chapel and Brienne went about ordering her dress and picking her bridesmaids. Gal was getting excited about being an usher. Their friends piled in making suggestions and volunteering to help. Catelyn Stark even offered them the Winterfell Hotel for the reception.

"I'm not sure we should accept that," said Jaime hesitantly when they were safely wrapped up together in bed. "After what..."

Brienne kissed him quite furiously then, stroking his face with her hands and the brushing his hair out of his eyes. When they broke apart, she smiled. "I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. It makes sense for us to take her up on her offer. It will save us so much money..."

"Brienne..."

"I'm not made of money! Are you?"

"No, but..."

"Things are different now," she whispered. "We have Gal, Rohanne, and Duncan. We have the support of our friends and family. We can make things work. It doesn't matter if we go back to that hotel again, because we're not going back to that _place_, that _time_."

Jaime tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't want to hurt you again."

"I know," she breathed. "And just because we are back in the Winterfell Hotel it doesn't mean you will. We've both changed. We're both different. I imagine they've even changed the decor in the hotel."

Jaime let out a little laugh. "As long as you are sure."

"I'm sure. I trust you."

* * *

They had to cross the car park to get to the hotel, and Jaime purposefully marched his way to the hotel doors. He was helped by Gal, who was very excited, so he dashed out of the car and across the space, totally unaware of its significance. Jaime didn't want to linger in the lobby and made sure they went out for dinner with the children and Selwyn that evening. Luckily, Brienne's dad had agreed to share a room with his grandchildren for the two days leading up to the wedding, so Jaime and Brienne had some time to themselves.

As their journey had been long, they went to bed quite early and, although he was a little stressed, Jaime fell asleep fairly quickly to the sound of Brienne's moose snoring. That night, his dreams were full of snow, coldness, and the Winterfell Hotel car park.

_Stay with me, please... Stay._

He woke up, gasping, overcome by the fear his nightmare induced. It was worsened when he realised that Brienne was not in bed beside him, and for a horrible moment he thought he was back in his dingy basement flat, without Brienne or his family. Sitting up, panicked, he looked around. He shouldn't have been worried, because Brienne was still there, just perched on an armchair over by the door.

"Brienne," he said breathlessly, noticing her expression. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, trying to smile, but he could tell it was false.

"No you're not. What's the matter?"

She bit her lip. "I know this was all my idea but... we're getting married in two days."

Jaime nodded. "We are. Are you happy about that?"

"Of course," she answered quickly. "Are you?"

"Yes," he replied, sensing her worry. It had been two days before their last wedding when he had run away. "Do you need proof?"

She looked at him quizzically. "Of what?"

"That I mean it."

To his surprise, Brienne nodded. Knowing he needed to soothe her, he said, "come with me".

Taking her hand, Jaime led Brienne out of the Winterfell Hotel and to the carpark. Like that night so many years previously, the moon was bright, and the stars were out. It was also cold, but there was no snow. Brienne was wearing a dressing gown, just as she had been before, but this time she didn't look worried or scared. She was holding his hand, and her eyes were full of trust.

"Ask me to stay with you, Brienne," Jaime said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Clearly not expecting that, she looked a little sad. "Do you want me to beg?"

He shook his head. "No, I just want you to ask me. With no frills, just say, _Jaime, will you stay with me?"_

Brienne's eyes bore a strange mix of emotion as she looked at him - both fear and hope - but she had always been brave, so she took a deep gulp of night air before whispering, "Jaime, will you stay with me?"

He didn't leave her question unanswered for more than a second. "Yes, Brienne. I will stay with you. Forever. For as long as you will have me."

The smile she gave him made all the colours of the night brighter. "Are you sure?"

"Always."

For Jaime, that promise in a chilly carpark meant more than the ones he made two days later in a little chapel in front of all their friends and family. Although during the wedding ceremony, Brienne was wearing a beautiful dress, they were surrounded by love and support, and making their vows in the sight of God, it did not wash away the past and let Jaime forgive himself in the way that his oath in the carpark had.

Even so, Jaime would never forget either set of promises. As he stood by the altar with Brienne - _my Brienne _\- the vicar announced, "I now declare you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

Brienne smiled at him and it was enough to make years of snow-covered nightmares feel more distant. He kissed her as everyone clapped, and she put her hand on his face, running her thumb along his cheekbone. When they broke apart, she was still beaming.

"At last," she mumbled.

"At last," he agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! I've really loved writing this fic, so I hope you've loved reading it. Comments and kudos are great!
> 
> As you probably know if you've been following "Many Flavours of Ice Cream", I have another fic in this series in the works. In "Big Cop" I went for the Slowburn, in "Woman Up" the first date, in "Run, Fat Knight, Run" the redemption arc and my next fic will tackle... Bittersweet Braime...
> 
> I hope you come back!


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